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A star was His night-light,
His quilt was the sky,
And soft sang His mother
In case He should cry;
And all the brown cattle
Came close to His bed
To see the small Baby
Asleep in their shed.
His carols were praises
Of love and goodwill,
That rose in the midnight
So clear and so still,
To herald the earliest
Christmas we know,
When Jesus was little,
A long time ago
by
Elizabeth Fleming
