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Sleep, Mary, sleep alongside our dear Lord
A holy picture for all men to see
That King of glory and incarnate Word
Now cradled infant mortal child He be;
When all at once some village shepherds keep
Watching their sheep—abundant angels sing—
Told where to find this Saviour fast asleep,
And with great haste sought Yeshua the King.
Still coming forth from distant lands, wise men,
Approaching later on—Epiphany—
Bring finest gifts into their humble den
And bow in worship, rev'rence, on their knee.
     But wise men seek our Lord within these days,
     And keep Him in their hearts, and give Him praise.
© Timothy 24 December 2016
Yeshua - Jesus.
Epiphany - the manifestation of Christ to the gentiles as represented by the Magi (Matthew 2:1–12).
#Christmas #Jesus #Yeshua
"I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;
I lift my lids and all is born again.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

The stars go waltzing out in blue and red,
And arbitrary blackness gallops in:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed
And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

God topples from the sky, hell's fires fade:
Exit seraphim and Satan's men:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I fancied you'd return the way you said,
But I grow old and I forget your name.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

I should have loved a thunderbird instead;
At least when spring comes they roar back again.
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)"
I always listen to your problems
When you cry I wipe a tear
I love you with all my heart
And that's my greatest fear

I can't get you out of my head
I just keep on missing you
Even before going to bed
I am still thinking of you

You're always there when I'm asleep
And all throughout the night
In the morning when I wake up
You never leave my sight

It's a game of love roulette
And my gun is fully loaded
As loving my best friend is friendship suicide
So I'll make sure it's noted
This one's for the people who's in love with their best friends and don't have the courage to confess
The rose is a rose,
And was always a rose.
But the theory now goes
That the apple’s a rose,
And the pear is, and so’s
The plum, I suppose.
The dear only knows
What will next prove a rose.
You, of course, are a rose—
But were always a rose.

— The End —