«There, there,» he whispers smiling. «Above the tree, look at that light. It seems to be walking along the ray of the moon. There it is, it is coming near. How beautiful it is!»
«I can only see a rather brighter light.»
«So can I.»
«So can I,» say the others.
«No. I see something like a body,» says one whom I recognise to be the shepherd who gave the milk to Mary.
«It is… it is an angel,» shouts the boy. «Here he is, he is coming down, he is coming near… Down! On your knees before the angel of God!»
A long and venerable «Oh!» comes from the group of shepherds, who fall down face to the ground and the older they are, the more they appear to be crushed by the refulgent apparition. The young ones are on their knees, looking at the angel who is coming nearer and nearer, and then he stops mid-air above the enclosure wall, waving his large wings, a pearly brightness in the white moonlight surrounding him.
«Do not fear. I am not bringing you misfortune. I announce a great joy for the people of Israel and for all the people of the world.» The angelic voice is the harmony of a harp and of singing nightingales.
«Today, in the City of David, the Saviour has been born.» In saying so, the angel spreads out his wings wider and wider, moving them as a sign of overwhelming joy, and a stream of golden sparks and precious stones seem to fall from them: a real rainbow creating a triumphal arch above the poor shed.
«… the Saviour, Who is Christ.» The angel shines with a brighter light. His two wings, now motionless, pointed upright towards the sky like two still sails on the sapphire of the sea, seem like two bright flames ascending to Heaven.
«… Christ, the Lord!» The angel gathers his sparkling wings and covers himself with them as if they were a coat of diamonds on a dress of pearls, he bows down in adoration, with his arms crossed over his heart, while his head bent down as it is, disappears in the shade of the tops of the folded wings. Only an oblong bright motionless shape can be seen for a few moments.
But now he stirs. He spreads out his wings, lifts his head, bright with a heavenly smile, and says: «You will recognise Him from the following signs: in a poor stable, behind Bethlehem, you will find a baby in swaddling clothes, in a manger for animals, because no roof was found for the Messiah in the city of David.» The angel becomes serious, almost sad, in saying that.
30.4 But from the Heavens many angels — oh! how many! — come down, all like him, a ladder of angels descending and rejoicing and dimming the moonlight with their heavenly brightness. They all gather round the announcing angel, fluttering their wings, exhaling perfumes, playing notes in which the most beautiful voices of creation find a recollection, but elevated to uniform perfection. If painting is the expression of matter to become light, here melody is the expression of music to give men a hint of the beauty of God. To hear this melody is to know Paradise, where everything is harmony of love which emanates from God to make the blessed souls happy, and then from them returns to God to say to Him: «We love You!»
The angelical «Glory» spreads throughout the quiet country in wider and wider circles and the bright light with it. And the birds join their singing to greet the early light, and the sheep add their bleatings for the early sun. But, as previously in the grotto for the ox and the donkey, I love to believe that the animals are greeting their Creator, Who has come down among them to love them both as a Man and as God.
The singing slowly fades away, as well as the light, and the angels ascend to Heaven…