Merry Christmas
When the bells of Christmas Eve ring out
I'd like to find my way
To the little town of Bethlehem
Where Baby Jesus lay
All cuddled in his mother's arms
Upon sweet fragrant hay.
And as the animals come close
And gather all around
To see this precious newborn Babe
The moving star has found,
They seem to know this innocent
Will all the world astound.
Though we can't go to Bethlehem,
We still may see the star,
If we look East with expectance
And keep our hearts ajar.
Some where in God's heavens,
It still shines on from afar.
When the bells of Christmas Eve ring out
I'd like to find my way
To the little town of Bethlehem
Where Baby Jesus lay
All cuddled in his mother's arms
Upon sweet fragrant hay.
And as the animals come close
And gather all around
To see this precious newborn Babe
The moving star has found,
They seem to know this innocent
Will all the world astound.
Though we can't go to Bethlehem,
We still may see the star,
If we look East with expectance
And keep our hearts ajar.
Some where in God's heavens,
It still shines on from afar.
Joyce I. Johnson lives in the
beautiful Skagit Valley of Washington State. She owns a small farm and rents
her land to a bulb grower. She is surrounded by beauty in the spring from the
tulips and daffodils that inspire much of her poetry. Joyce celebrated her 96th
birthday in July of 2014.
Joyce,
ReplyDeleteBeing a SMILE contributor for so long, I'll always think of you as the "other" Joyce Johnson. This poem is a great representation and celebration of the true spirit of Christmas!
Your friend,
David Fox