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A Christmas poem

You lie on the prickly hay
Protected by the strips of cloth
Around you wound.
That Mary has saved from old soft clothes.
The cow nudges you,
As she digs in
For a mouthful of hay.
And yes you do cry,
Because you are a healthy,
Human baby and they all cry.

On your tiny breaths
Hang the destiny of the world.
Emmanuel,"God with us,"
In a dung-filled cave,
Risking tetanus.
Your only protectors
A young woman,
And a carpenter.
God has entrusted His Son
To these two humble folk,
Who take you from the filthy stable
To a house in Bethlehem,
Once the census crowds have dispersed
And made room for the King of kings
To have humble,
But cleaner shelter.

A humble start for the Man-God
Who always lived humbly
And with utter determination
Made His way over thirty- three years
To the cross of His destiny for us.



See more on this here The First Christmas

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