Child of the stable's secret birth
The Lord by right of the lords of earth
Let angels sing of a king newborn
The world is weaving a crown of thorn
A crown of thorn for that infant head
Cradled soft in a manger bed.
Infant hands in a mother's hand,
For none but Mary can understand
Whose are the hands and the fingers curled
But his who fashioned and made our world:
And through those hands in the hour of death
Nails shall strike to the wood beneath.
Labels: christmas, modern