My First Christmas
Advent ends and He is born, in a manger so forlorn.
Messiah as a Babe arrives, born to us to save our lives.
Giving up His splendor true, all for us to make us new.
Though divine He puts on flesh, all for us to make us fresh
And new in heart and mind and soul. He came to us to make us whole.
Yes, when time was full God's Son was sent, to mend and heal what we had rent.
When we were faithless, He fulfilled. He was holy, yet we killed
Him in our ignorance, with our sin, yet He wants to enter in
To our heart and minds to mend, far from us our sin to send.
As a Babe He comes in love, fully man, yet God above.
He came down--His Father's will. He came down--His blood to spill.
For our lives He came and sought, through this Babe our lives were bought.
In happiness, yet sadness, too, the Father cries out, cries out for you.
On that first Christmas Day, the Father wept as if to say,
"Unworthy children though you are, though truth from you is very far,
Though I weep at My Son's birth, knowing He will die on earth,
Joy yet sparkles in my eyes, for I know through His demise,
Sinners will I welcome warm, through what begins this Christmas morn."
Tuesday, December 24, 1996
Wednesday, December 04, 1996
poem: Who Is She?
11/6/96
last verse 12/4/96
[It was between these dates that the goddess' personal pronoun "She" became just "she." It was during this time that I came to the conclusion that she was not a god. I needed to know this in order to fully give myself to God.
This poem begins with me asking who she is, and ends when God gives me the answer.]
Who Is She?
I was once a child of night, thinking that I dwelt in light,
And yet the God of Light did come, and the Son eclipsed the Sun.
Calling, calling, always clear; calling, calling, ever near,
Saying what must be said for change; moving moving - rearrange.
I call out to earth and sky; I call out my doubts must die.
What¹s the lie and what is true, who is She and who are You?
Will You answer, One of Day, will You speak and will You say,
Who She is and what You've done, conquer Her with Light of Son?
I called out to earth and sky; I called out my doubts must die.
And You came and spoke to me, from Your word You broke to me
The news of what She is so true; She is not at all like You.
She is demon, You divine; I give Her up - You are mine!
last verse 12/4/96
[It was between these dates that the goddess' personal pronoun "She" became just "she." It was during this time that I came to the conclusion that she was not a god. I needed to know this in order to fully give myself to God.
This poem begins with me asking who she is, and ends when God gives me the answer.]
Who Is She?
I was once a child of night, thinking that I dwelt in light,
And yet the God of Light did come, and the Son eclipsed the Sun.
Calling, calling, always clear; calling, calling, ever near,
Saying what must be said for change; moving moving - rearrange.
I call out to earth and sky; I call out my doubts must die.
What¹s the lie and what is true, who is She and who are You?
Will You answer, One of Day, will You speak and will You say,
Who She is and what You've done, conquer Her with Light of Son?
I called out to earth and sky; I called out my doubts must die.
And You came and spoke to me, from Your word You broke to me
The news of what She is so true; She is not at all like You.
She is demon, You divine; I give Her up - You are mine!
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