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.