BY CLEMENT CLARKE MOORE ‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there; The children were nestled all snug in their beds;While visions of sugar-plums…
What Child is This? What child is this, who, laid to rest, On Mary’s lap is sleeping, Whom angels greet with anthems sweet While shepherds watch are keeping? This, this is Christ the King, Whom shepherds guard and angels sing; Haste, haste to bring Him laud, The babe, the son…
SANTA NYC 