By Christina G. Rossetti
The shepherds had an angel,
The wise men had a star;
But what have I, a little child,
To guide me home from far,
Where glad stars sing together,
And singing angels are?
Lord Jesus is my Guardian
so I can nothing lack;
The lambs lie in His bosom
Along life’s dangerous track:
The wilful lambs that go astray
He, bleeding, brings them back.
Those shepherds thro’ the lonely night
Sat watching by their sheep,
Until they saw the heav’nly host
Who neither tire nor sleep,
All singing glory, glory,
In festival they keep.
Christ watches me, His little lamb,
Cares for me day and night,
That I may be His own in heav’n,
So angels clad in white
Shall sing their Glory, glory,
For my sake in the height.
Lord, bring me nearer day by day,
Till I my voice unite,
And sing my Glory, glory,
With angels clad in white,
All Glory, glory, giv’n to Thee,
Thro’ all the heav’nly height.
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