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Poems for Advent: "The Bread of Life Asleep in Bethlehem"

The Bread of Life Asleep in Bethlehem By: Andrew Tate A mother’s trembling hand holds her baby, gently lowering Him into a manger built for creatures grazing. Swaddled and sleeping He bears no royal prelude, Yet the angels of glory are leaning in to gain a closer view, For this same baby clothed with flesh and tissue, holds the moon and stars, now born from the womb. The Bread of life asleep in Bethlehem, The hills that night bearing the Passover Lamb, The one who spoke into being all the ancient lights, now sleeps in a manger under their flickering night.

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