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My song is love made known –
love born in Bethlehem.
The king without a throne
laid in a manger bed.
And should he cry,
heaven too will weep,
and for his sleep
sing lullaby.

See, Mary,  at your breast
the infant saviour lies –
Almighty God caressed
by loving mother’s eyes.
And should he cry,
then hold him tight,
and in his night
sing lullaby.

Sing, angels, wake the world !
Proclaim “your God arrives” !
Descend on wings unfurled,
wring echoes from the skies !
But should he cry,
still, still your wings,
and for him sing
a lullaby.

Rise, shepherds, hasten down.
Leave sheep safe in their fold.
Come, see in David’s town
this thing the angels told.
And should he cry,
poor little lamb,
do what you can,
sing lullaby.

Come star-led magi, bring
your frankincense and gold;
myrrh to anoint a king
for his stone tomb, so cold.
And should he cry,
take off your crowns,
and kneeling round
sing lullaby.

My song your love makes bold –
I have no angel wings.
I have no spice or gold,
I have no lamb to bring –
but hear my cry,
come dry my tears,
and for my fears
sing lullaby.

Revd. Stephen Day, 2008

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