At Christmastide the gracious moon
                                        
                                        Keeps vigil while we sleep,
                                        
                                        And sheds abroad her light’s sweet boon,
                                        
                                        On vale and mountain-steep;
                                        
                                        O’er all the slumbering land descends
                                        
                                        Her radiancy unshorn;
                                        
                                        But brighter is the Light, good friends,
                                        
                                        That shines on Christmas morn.