Children, Singing

It's the time of year when listening to a child


Becomes a way to pray.


Praise newborn God, we think, all mercy mild,


And may He gain our day.

Before us here a choir of heavenish voices,


Children's voices, say,


As the anthem demands, Our weary world rejoices.


But just what are we to pray?

That we become - as writings prophesy -


As little children? That we hark -


Hearing the carol - as the herald angels sing? They'll fly


Breakneck from innocence to dark-

Tinged wonder, Incarnation flown to Passion.


But singing children - They,


Like Bethlehem's Infant, salve such apprehension.


From the manger where He lay,

The center of a universe now blessed,


A childlight charges every note and rest.