SHACKELFORD

Texts

All beautiful the march of days, as seasons come and go;
The Hand that shaped the rose hath wrought the crystal of the snow;
Hath sent the hoary frost of Heav’n, the flowing waters sealed,
And laid a silent loveliness on hill and wood and field.
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While shepherds watched their flocks by night,
all seated on the ground,
an angel of the Lord came down,
and glory shone around.
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