And gathered all above,
While mortals sleep, the angels keep
Their watch of wondering love.
O, morning stars together
Proclaim the holy birth!
And praises sing to God the King
And peace to men on earth.”
And now it seemed to him that he sang not to that crowd of upturned faces, not to those men and women in shining silks and satins, not to Jane who was far away, but to those others who pressed close—his comrades across the Great Divide!
So he had sung to them in the hospital, sitting up in his narrow bed—and most of the men who had listened were—gone.
“O, holy child of Bethlehem,