Image credit Wesley Fryer, Wikimedia.
On this winter’s day I sing of spring,
And tell a story to warm your heart,
Let all the bells in heaven ring,
And all children take up their part.
In a place called Bethlehem town,
Is where this story has its’ start,
It was not then of great renown,
A boy was born destined to be,
A king to wear the highest crown,
In this play love is given free.
From the East three kings bear rich gifts,
Fit for a prince of noble birth,
In a stable a baby lifts
The hope that man will be found worth
A father’s love faithful and true.
From the hills a shepherd’s song drifts,
With peace and calm it will imbue
All who hear the soft words and notes,
Sung for many by all too few,
It circles and on the air floats.
Animals in the stable stand,
Gaze upon the infant sleeping,
In awe of one come to their land,
To end pain, sorrow and weeping,
Angels fly over where He lies,
A constant watch always keeping,
For one who in time for us dies,
King of Kings he will conquer death,
And rise to leave us words so wise,
Now held upon an infant’s breath.
If any child should forget their lines
Love them more; do not overlook
The star above that brightly shines,
An angel is holding this book,
Containing more words than we know.
One day may we all take a look,
See the source from where love-songs flow,
Until then let us all rejoice,
Sing of heaven on earth below,
In one united thankful voice.