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Blessed With An Angel. (At A Cousins Birth)

Oh! the splendor of the heaven sleeps,
while the Lord him in his shelter keeps.

The comets don't the skies appall,
when falling to a prayer please,
a longing cradle when does call,
to a blazing wish that may cease,
the trial of years -an angel form
when shadowed by a silent storm,
an enigma that with men is bound,
has atoned it so an angel bright,
who could had not a beacon found,
if blessed its fire with all the light
of the skies that do the stars adhere
or the shinning suns of mortal sphere.
Some blessings are a worldly rhyme,
for those are which our needs defeat,
a gift of Lord is a heavens chime,
and this is what our lives complete;
now the air is dipped in a flare of joy-
with a halo crowned is the baby boy.

The splendor of the heaven's asleep,
May the Lord him in his shelter keep.


R.N.Khan, © 2011

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