Christmas Eve

T'was Christmas Eve,
Holiness was every where.
Sweet strains...from angel harps,
Were floating on the air.

In a hospital near,
A mother had long lain.
Thinking of the Holy One,
As she wreathed in...Child-birth pain.

So different from the long ago,
And it's gatherings from afar.
Here's was a volted ceiling light,
Its rays...her only star.

Under an ether-mask.
Her face lay drawn and pale.
She moved with a start of eagerness,
As she heard her infant wail.

A prayer moved from her lips,
Sounded in tones from her heart.
Oh God...He may never be as Jesus Christ,
But pray...let him be a part.

E.P. 1908 - 1989