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