A moving star seemed brighter than the cast
that moved across the darkened sky so vast.
And somewhere far, in eastern lands,
three riders followed it through sands.
And on arriving where the star was poised
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they found a holy child, and they rejoiced,
for he was what the star pursued,
the newborn king, and love ensued.
Now, evergreens adorn the window-frames, candles flicker welcomes through the panes, mistletoe hangs high above the room, the Yule log burns dispelling gloom, and, twinkling with many lights galore, ornaments of tinsel out of olden lore, popcorn garlands and its wreaths of gold, the tree stands tall, a wonder to behold.
Soon, season's gifts are given in exchange and children guess a red-clad man most strange had come on sleigh while in their beds they lay and brought down chimney parcels for their play.
A goblet will be raised by all in merry toast, the warmth of friends, the hearth embracing roast, while choral voices will be heard to sing the sacred message that old carols bring.
A moving star seems brighter than the rest
against the evening sky in its new quest.
And somewhere here, throughout the land,
new followers become as grains of sand.