That of which an angel breathes

Is the birth of a small infant,

God’s sword of judgment rests in its sheath,

No creature is God’s recant

Every ray in the glorious sun,

Is an angel waiting to be called to duty,

To insure God’s good will be done,

The meek be God’s possessions of beauty

The wrongs of the world,

Are but scars upon his mighty hands,

His plan for men becomes unfurled

Against these sins he requests we stand

The opening eyes of a curious child,

Depicts the brilliance of the morning,

An enemy’s anger toned down to mild,

Forbids thy tragic warning

His pleading message to His creation,

Let there be true peace on earth,

And goodwill towards all ye humans,

And honor thy life for what it’s worth.