“ Unto us a child is born” the prophet spake in days of yore-
A virgin bringing forth a son, the like was never seen before.
The ox’s stall the manger bed, no room for them within the inn-
This pauper child would day say, to men..”Ye must be born again”.
The smoking flax he did not quench, a bruis-ed reed he never broke.
A Lamb before his slayers dumb, none ever spake as this man spoke.
He raised the dead, made blind eyes see; and made the wretched leper clean
He healed the lame, made dumb men speak, delivered Mary Magdelene.
He turned the water into wine, and then came walking on the sea-
And granted Simon Peter’s wish, when he said, “Bid me come to thee”-
And still the invitation, “Come”, goes out to whosoever will
He’ll save them to the uttermost, and hearts with peace and joy fill.
But tarry lest we run ahead, the prophet spake in his next breath-
“A Son is given unto us”! this time he’s speaking of his death.
A Son, not child, with full consent, then bore the cross up Calvary’s hill-
His face was set just like a flint, He’d come to do the Father’s will.
That you and I need never die, but live with Him eternally-
I see a cross upon a hill, not some cheap, tinsel covered tree.
The greatest gift God ever gave, was when he gave his Son, you see?
“Salvation of my hell-bound soul”! that is what Christmas means to me.