A King Is Born
The baby lay quiet and still,
Wrapped in simple rags to protect Him from the chill.
He silently let out a baby’s coo
As the Mother tenderly uncovered Him to view.
There was great joy upon her face,
Even if she had to deliver in such a place.
The dark of night was lite with light-
A star shining bright.
It scattered its light into the stable door,
Sending rays toward the manager and across the floor.
The baby wrapped its tiny finger
Around His mother’s.
She let her eyes protectively linger.
In that brief moment, time stood still,
And gone was the chill.
She watched with love as joy filled her heart.
Here was a child that could give everyone a fresh new start.
It didn’t seem right!
This stable-the only thing left for the night;
A wooden trough – the only place for Him to rest;
- not a bed and not the very best.
It was smelly and dusty-
In a stable, cold and musky.
It was the only thing around,
And Mary frowned as she laid Him down.
He was a King - Christ the Lord!
Her first-born whom she adored.
The angels declared it in song.
He was a Savior come to right the wrong!
The mother let her hand glide over His face
As she slowly released her embrace.
There was great joy
Over the birth of this infant boy.
She watched as He lay sound asleep,
Resting among the animals and the sheep.
A King lying in a heap of dusty hay?
Not a picture she wanted to portray.
Yet, not an animal stirred or moved around;
None made a disturbing sound.
Glory shone round about.
The angels proclaimed it with a shout,
"A King is born!”
Mary Crisp Jameson
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