‘Twas the fourth day of December
And the family gathered round,
To hear Dad read aloud
They made not a sound.
That is, except the baby,
Who spoke a lot or fussed,
Reached out for a Bible
And his sister’s hair mussed.
They had gathered together,
For a very good reason.
Dad always read of Christ’s birth
Nearly every night in this season.
They listened so quietly,
And followed along.
They would remember these nights,
All their lives long …
To the KING be all the glory!
Beautiful poem. :D