Though he lay on the ground, Yet, in visions of night, He was compassed all round By the angels of the night. Where the Cherubim rode On four lions of gold, There this cherub abode Making new what was old. Where the angels came down To the shepherds at night, Near to Bethlehem Town, Clad in garments of light -- There the Little Boy Blue Blew aloud on his horn Songs as soft as the dew From the Mountains of Morn. . . . |