On Sabbaths they were accustomed to purify themselves, and go up into the synagogues, and sit on the benches farthest from the ark.

When the chazzan bore the Torah round, none kissed it with greater zest; when the sheliach read the text, none listened to the interpreter with more absolute faith; and none took away with them more of the elder's sermon, or gave it more thought afterwards.

In a verse of the Shema they found all the learning and all the law of their simple lives--that their Lord was One God, and that they must love him with all their souls.
And they loved him, and such was their wisdom, surpassing that of kings.
While they talked, and before the first watch was over, one by one the shepherds went to sleep, each lying where he had sat.
The night, like most nights of the winter season in the hill country, was clear, crisp, and sparkling with stars.

There was no wind.

The atmosphere seemed never so pure, and the stillness was more than silence; it was a holy hush, a warning that heaven was stooping low to whisper some good thing to the listening earth.
By the gate, hugging his mantle close, the watchman walked; at times he stopped, attracted by a stir among the sleeping herds, or by a jackal's cry off on the mountain-side.