They slept quietly that night,
Fields of plump white pillows,
Self-satisfied, well fed,
Watched over by bright stars, clear sky,
Good shepherd (also dozing).
Then came the fire, the trumpets,
Beasts scattering and bleating
In a storm wilder than lightning.
Shepherds fleeing, fainting,
Finally kneeling to the light,
To hear the song of angels
Proclaim the new-come King
Who knows no mighty castle,
But instead comes to the stable
To collect His scattered sheep.