Tuesday, December 24, 1996

poem: My First Christmas

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."

1 comment:

Arthur_of_Old said...

I weep as I consider this love He has so shared. May it go round the world over and over till He has claimed every last child yet to be brought in. Peace unto you Lord and your people. May your enemies be mine and may your people be mine. None has yet considered your rights or sufferings for our rebellion. Human rights as compared to your rights. Who are we, who are we, Lord have mercy on this people. We seem to think our pleasure more important than your way. Oh Lord give me light that so shines that people truly see you. I must decrease and you must increase. Oh Ancient of Days, Jesus His son and everlasting king, here my prayer.