How calm an image, mother and child,

Mary, oh, so meek and mild,

Jesus, chubby infant sweet

With pudgy baby hands and feet.

A soft glow the atmosphere seems to fill,

A scene to treasure, peaceful and still.

How unwillingly our eyes are turned

To a scene where angry crowds are churned.

No more the mother’s fond embrace;

Rough wooden beams her arms replace.

No swaddling clothes, so warm and soft;

Hard nails hold His naked body aloft.

No angels singing God’s praises are there;

Rather, taunts, jeers and curses fill the air.

Once worshipped by shepherds on bended knee,

Now hailed by soldiers with mockery.

The tender infant, now grown to a man,

Takes on the role that only He can.

Yet again the scene changes, and now behold

Another part of the story is told.

No cows lowing heard, nor shouts of the crowd;

A silence profound fills the sepulcher’s shroud

In the still air, no foul stench of fear or of death;

The burial spices give their sweet-scented breath.

Once laid in a manger, now laid in a tomb,

The death of Christ brings unto Death its own doom!

The grave cannot hold Him, however it tries.

He bursts its bonds, rises, ascends to the skies!

Only one scene is left to finish the story

When Christ, the Messiah, returns in His glory.

No more the sweet Babe of the Bethlehem stall,

But this time the King of Kings, Lord over all.

The end from the very beginning was known:

The manger was but one small step toward His throne.

Susie Aasen, 2005

A BLESSED CHRISTMAS TO ALL!!!!

Permission to reprint given as long as the author’s name and source  are included in the transmission.