Graced by the brilliant star shining above,
Our King came in a way never heard of,
With mooing of cow and cooing of dove,
The Father gave His best gift of love.
It was Christmas.
Little ones wait, as the fire grows cold,
For surprises the waited-for morning will hold,
Heads spinning with stories so wonderfully told,
Of the King of kings coming as it was foretold,
And it's Christmas
The snow and the pines and the feasting today,
Children with their new toys, happily play.
Is it in His love that we give in this way?
It's the merry and holy Lord's natal day.
Yes, it's Christmas.
Hearts turning to those who have less at this time,
Jubilant bells in streets and church steeples chime,
And spirits, if not always temperatures, climb.
Minds turn from the commonplace to sublime,
When it's Christmas.
Some greet the day where fierce gales are blowing,
Others 'neath palm trees with bright flowers growing,
Faces of loved ones, meeting, just glowing,
Hearts full of joy, the wondrous news knowing,
And it's Christmas.
©12/13/2011 Carol Morfitt Welch