In just a few more days we'll recall it the glorious Christmas day
When all the world was silent and our Creator lay on some bed of hay
Surrounded by the humblest creatures..and without a heralding band
The Almighty God Incarnate held Heaven in His little Hand
There wasn't anything about His Being His crying or His Feet
That would tell the visiting stranger what secrets He did keep
He wept like all of the rest of us and He soiled his linens too...
The One who made all of the universe was helpless like me and you.
His mother wasn't anything special, she did what women would do
His step father worked like the rest of them: he was a carpenter: it's true
So what was it about this little Baby this Infant,this little Child
That changed the exhausted traveller who approached Him, so meek and mild?
Was there anything about His Sighing or some Energy inside His Cry:
That instructed the visiting onlooker, with a wisdom from on high?
For everyone could see.. He mirrored us: His eyes, His hands His way
Everything was like we had here: nothing spectacular about that hay..
But whenever inside of His presence: that humbleness that was there
Each person went away rejoicing like a recipient of answered prayer
Everyone knew there was something about that Baby that Child that little newborn
That changed their lives forever and memorialized that Christmas morn
So we celebrate that greatest memory, that mysteriousness and Act of Love
When God the Almighty became incarnate and united earth to Heaven above
It was't so sparkly or glittery.... and it wasn't like anything done today
For when the Creator came here seeking: He was quickly rejected away
It is that love that moved Him forward: This Immortal This Creator of all
That we should be trying too remember and teaching to the greatest and small
For we somehow have traded it all for the buying, the ribbons and of the tape
Not knowing that this story is still relevant and never to ancient to relate