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With bleary eyes the lamb, they bleat;
A thousand stars perform,
The dance to night beat.
Always the same form,
Of moon wax and moon wane,
No need for panic or sweat.
Night enters, night leaves again.
Yet, there's one to come, to pay the debt;
To help mankind to redeeming grace.
Then, one star burns the inky sky bright;
To snag the thoughts of shepherds face.
There's rejoicing on high this night.
God-son redeeming born;
His choice a maiden blessed to bear him.
They gift the child so low-born,
And talk in whispers at the manger dim;
Three wise men in adoration,
To this the anointed son.
-- gillena cox
The Sunday Whirl Wordle 192