A Christmas Meditation

The season to be jolly has come round

Too little space to let our joy resound

For it should be our strength throughout the year

Not come and go in one small snowy blur.

God’s gift of Jesus does not go away

Like fragile flowers at the end of May

He is the Rose that blooms forever more,

From Sharon’s pastures to the farthest shore

Come celebrate by thanking Him today
Who loved us so, facing His Father’s plea,
He volunteered to die for you and me.

We scarcely of ourselves can last a day

Without some sin infecting all our way.

For those too proud to yield their selfish lives,
The graves gape wide and nights are filled with knives;
Their end is silence or deep, black, despair

Where howls of horror rend the pitchy air

And so I cast my lot and faith on Thee

My priceless Lord, whose blood transfuses me.



Gene Pinkney 12/23/03

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