A Christmas Poem

The Word made flesh and blood and bone,
The Lord of all without a home,
The Son of God made Son of Man,
The Creator enters creation's land.
He parts the stars, dons tiny frame–
His glory hid in earthy shame–
Eternal One confined in time,
Sent to fulfill the ancient rhyme:
To crush the Serpent's head, we're told,
To restore anew our Eden old,
To save us from all death and sin,
To save us from what lies within.
The babe, Who is the Great I AM,
The Lion born to die a Lamb,
Good Shepherd laid in manger bed,
(With His own flesh his sheep are fed).
In Bethlehem inside a shed
Is laid the One called Heaven's Bread.
He'll feed the hungry, heal the sick,
And wear the curse of thorny sticks;
The Sinless One becoming sin,
Mocked and bruised by sinful men.
Upon the Skull He'll place His heel,
The pain and wrath of God to feel,
That tiny One from Mary's womb,
Will rise victorious from the tomb.
The world's last hope hangs on a thread,
A single cord that's dyed blood red;
Our only hope is born tonight,
To pierce the dark and raise the light–
The hope of all the ages born,
The dawning glory, history's Morn.
We wake today in simple awe
that Jesus Christ has done it all!
The fragile Child of God above
Has saved us by His mighty love.
By His own flesh and blood and bone,
The Word of God gave us a home.

Merry Christmas!

-a