This passage,
Too glorious for mortal eyes to look upon,
Is taken from Reader's Digest,
The Story of Jesus.
Was the memory of that night preserved by the shepherds who were there and carefully handed down from generation to generation?
In the shepherd's story,
Washington Gladden imagined one of the shepherds recounting the miraculous appearance of the angel 50 years later to his grandson.
Bring that sheepskin,
Joseph,
And lay it down on this bank of dry earth under this shelving rock.
The wind blows chilly from the west,
But the rock will shelter us.
The sky is fair and the moon is rising,
And we could sit here and watch the flock on the hillside below.
Your young blood and your father's coat of skins will keep you warm for one watch,
I am sure.
At midnight,
My son,
Your father and his brother will take our places.
For the first watch,
You and I will tend the sheep.
Yes,
Grandfather,
You shall sit in that snug corner of the rock where you can lean back and take your comfort.
I will lie at your feet.
Now and then I will run and see whether the sheep are wandering,
And that will warn me if I grow cold.
Do you know,
My boy,
That this is the night of the year on which the Lord Christ was born?
Oh yes,
Answered the lad,
My father told me you were with the sheep that night.
How long ago was that,
Grandfather?
Just 50 years ago this night.
And how old were you then?
14,
And a stout boy for my age.
I had been for two years in the fields with my father and had tasted to the full the hardships and dangers of the shepherd's life.
My father and his brother James and Hosea,
A neighbor and kinsman of ours,
Were with me.
On that year,
As on this year and often,
There came in the midwinter a dry,
Warm season between the early and latter rain.
We had driven forth our flock from Bethlehem and were dwelling by night in the shelter of the tower on the hillside yonder,
Watching and sleeping,
Two and two.
My father and I were wont to keep the earlier watches.
At midnight we would call James and Hosea to relieve us,
And they would watch till morning.
But that night,
When the sun went down and the stars came out,
We were all sitting here upon this hillside talking of the troubles of Israel and the promises of deliverance spoken of by the prophets.
And James and Hosea were asking my father questions,
And he was answering them,
For he was older than they.
And all the people of Bethlehem reverenced him as a wise and devout man.
Suddenly I saw my father rise to his feet,
Then the other men sprang up with astonishment and wonder upon their faces.
It had grown light all at once,
Lighter than the brightest moon.
And as I turned my face in the direction in which the others were looking,
I saw standing there upon that level place a figure majestic and beautiful beyond the power of words to describe.
My heart stopped beating.
The others were standing,
But I had no power to rise.
I lay there motionless upon the earth.
My eyes were fixed upon that wonderful face,
Upon those clear shining eyes,
Upon that brow that seemed to beam with the purity of the soul within.
It was not a smile with which that face was lighted.
It was something too noble and exalted to call by that name.
It was a look that told of power and peace,
Of joy and triumph.
Did you know that it was an angel?
I knew not anything.
I only knew what I saw was glorious,
Too glorious for mortal eyes to look upon.
Yet while I gazed,
The terribleness of the look began to disappear.
The sweetness and grace of the soul shone forth,
And I had almost ceased to tremble before the angel opened his mouth.
And when he spoke,
His voice,
Clearer than any trumpet and sweeter than any lute,
Charmed away all my fears.
Be not afraid,
He said,
For behold,
I bring you glad tidings of great joy.
For there is born to you this day in the City of David a Savior.
Oh that voice,
My boy,
It makes my heart beat now to remember its sweetness.
It seemed to carry these words into our innermost hearts,
To print them on our memories so that we could never forget one syllable of what he said.
And then before we had time to make reply,
He turned aside a little and lifted his voice and face toward heaven,
And in a tone far louder than that in which he had spoken to us,
But yet so sweet that it did not startle us at all,
Came forth from his lips the first strain of that great song.
Glory to God in the highest.
When he had uttered that,
He paused a moment,
And the echoes,
One after another,
From the hills that were near and the hills that were far away,
Came flying home to us,
So that I knew for once what the Prophet meant when he said that all the mountains and the hills should break forth into singing.
But before the echoes had all faded,
We began to hear other voices above our heads,
A great chorus taking up the strain that the first angel had sung.
At first it seemed dim and far away,
But gradually it came nearer and filled the air,
Filled all the earth,
Filled all our souls with the most entrancing sweetness.
Glory to God in the highest.
That was the grandest part.
It seemed as though there could be no place so high that the strain would not mount up to it,
And no place so happy that the voice would not make it thrill with new gladness.
But then came the softer tones,
Less grand,
But even sweeter.
Peace on earth,
Goodwill toward men.
Did you see the choirs of angels overhead?
I saw nothing.
The brightness was too dazzling for mortal eyes.
We all stood there with downcast eyes listening spellbound to the wonderful melody until the chorus ceased and the echoes,
One after another,
Died away and the glory faded out of the sky and the stars came back again and no sound was heard but the faint voice of a young lamb calling for its mother.
The first to break the silence was my father.
Come,
Come,
He said in a solemn voice,
Let us go at once to Bethlehem and see this thing which has come to pass which the Lord has made known unto us.
You you you
