That night, when in Judean skies
The mystic star dispensed its light,
A blind man tossed in weary sleep
And dreamed that he had sight.
That night, when shepherds heard the song
Of hosts angelic choiring near,
A deaf man stirred in slumber’s spell
And dreamed that he could hear.
That night, when shabby cattle stall
Grew ever dark as hour grew late,
A cripple slept with twisted limbs
And dreamed that they were straight.
That night, when mighty hosts of God
Ringed round that crib secure,
A harlot turned in troubled sleep
And dreamed that she was pure.
That night, when o’er the newborn Babe
The tender Mary rose to lean,
A loathsome leper smiled in sleep
And dreamed that he was clean.
That night, when in the manger lay
The Sanctified who came to save,
A man moved in the sleep of death
And dreamed there was no grave.
Author Unknown
Someone just sent me [Christmas 2023] a variant version of this poem, and said it was by “Wm. F. Lovejoy”. There are several William F. Lovejoy’s, including one born in Georgia and murdered in Arkansas. I wonder… (!)