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It was not a silent night |
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There was blood on the ground |
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You could hear a woman cry |
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In the alleyways that night |
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On the streets of |
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David's town |
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And the stable was not clean |
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And the cobblestones were cold |
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And little |
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Mary full of grace |
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With the tears upon her face |
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Had no mother's hand to hold |
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It was a labor of pain |
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It was a cold sky above |
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But for the girl on the ground in the dark |
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With every beat of her beautiful heart |
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It was a labor of love |
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Noble Joseph at her side |
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Callused hands and weary eyes |
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There were no midwives to be found |
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On the streets of |
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David's town |
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In the middle of the night |
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So he held her and he prayed |
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Shafts of moonlight on his face |
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For the baby in her womb |
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He was the maker of the moon |
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He was the author of the faith |
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That could make the mountains move |
|
It was a labor of pain |
|
It was a cold sky above |
|
But for the girl on the ground in the dark |
|
With every beat of her beautiful heart |
|
It was a labor of love |
|
For little |
|
Mary full of grace |
|
With the tears upon her face |
|
It was a labor of love |
|
It was not a silent night |
|
On the streets of |
|
David's town |
