The cattle are lowing, the baby awakes, but little Lord Jesus, no crying he makes. I love you, Lord Jesus, look down from the sky, and stay by my side until morning is nigh. Be near me, Lord Jesus, I ask you to stay close by me forever, and love me, I pray. Bless all the dear children in your tender care, and fit us for heaven, to live with you there. But at Christmas, we do more than sing about Jesus coming to be with us.
Nobody thinks like that anymore.
Nobody's hungry in our city. We all have lots to eat and places to live. On the Canadian street, a few teenagers are hanging out together in the cold, stamping their feet and blowing into their hands. Their jackets are too light for winter. My feet are freezing.