The angels looked down from above
and wondered at a child
Who without deeds much fair or foul
had won the Master’s smile
A child whose path seemed blessed all through
right from his very dawn.
There were no curses in his path
to climb or stumble on.
This child was set, much like a king
with heritage the rule
That brought those tiny feet to stand
where never stands the fool
On mountaintops of grace and love
in palaces of joy
A scepter in the baby hand
that could be holding toys.
Why do you bless this infant, God?
The angels question there,
What justifies the blessings poured
out on this baby fair?
Then God the Father, with a smile,
he nodded down below
At one old couple, tried and true,
and said, You boys should know,
Four generations in that babe,
four generations strong
Have honored me with faith and love,
now watch them carry on
To teach that babe what Granddad knows,
what Granny found in me —
And I will bless the child who’s born
to such a family.