Birth

A babe in womb,
And His name shall be called Emmanuel:
God with us.
News and light to shepherds on a hill.

They found the Light swaddled tight,
In a cradle full of hay.
They left their sheep, to watch Him sleep,
Miracle and mess all mingled there.

What was the Father God feeling on that night?
How did Holy Spirit fill a newborn life?
Where did Mary find the strength to birth a God?
And did Joseph tire of the whispers: “Isn’t it odd?”

Born at night like billions of babies.
And born to be a light like none had seen.
He cried and nursed like ordinary babies,
While the angels sang a Savior lullaby.

Death

God poured out,
Blood and water streaming from His side,
As it turns out,
The babe-in-hay’s destiny’s to die.

Up all night, questioned, tried,
The subject of contempt,
He was alone, weary to the bone,
Love was bleeding, not retreating scared.

What was the Father God feeling on that night?
How did Holy Spirit fill an ebbing life?
Where did Mary find the strength to watch Him cry?
Forsaken, Jesus shouted, “Why, God? Why?”

He held His arms wide open, not by choice.
He let his soul be overcome by love.
Widows wept while evil men rejoiced,
And the angels sang a Savior lullaby.

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Note: this can be sung to the tune of Brad Paisley’s song, “Whiskey Lullaby”