Above those starry skies of night,
Amid His Paradise of light,
Oh, why may I not be?
'Oft when awake on Christmas morn,
In sleepless twilight laid forlorn,
Strange thoughts have o'er my mind been borne
How He has died for me.
'And oft, within my chamber lying,
Have I awaked myself with crying,
From dreams, where I beheld Him dying