Christmas Poem

In my house are many mansions

said the Father of us all.

Wrapped in swaddling, lowly manager

shepherds heard the angelic call.

Precious child, dear Redeemer,

prophets told throughout the years.

Son of God, Grace descending

on this earth of pain and fear.

Go before us, dear Jehovah,

guide our feet along the way.

We can find our path

through darkness.

There is hope on Christmas day.

Wrapped in kindness, clothed in mercy,

Saints unite and hear this plea.

We don’t have to wait for heaven

to experience majesty.

Bind the wounded

Help the weary

 Fill the cup that has gone dry.

Transform the Earth to be God’s kingdom

Willing hands reach up to sky.