A Christmas Meditation by Patricia Brooks
No lights twinkled merrily there,
On God's great Christmas tree,
As thick, damp, dark,
A noonday shroud enveloped Calvary.
No glittering ornaments danced
Through a showering tinsel flood,
When sin's file weight crushed God's own son,
As He paid its price: His blood.
No angel or star crowned the wood where hung this One few choose,
But man's last jeer, a sign that read: "This is Jesus, the King of the Jews."
No carols were sung on that day; men spat at Him, unconcerned,
And gambled there, as the Lamb of God bore the hell their lives had earned.
How little we all seem to care, as in His name, we sing
Of manger scenes, and wise men, droll, when God gave us The King!
A king with a crown of thorns, who died in agony, shame,
A criminal death, who knew no sin, this king is the One we name!
He cried on the cross, "It is finished!" Salvation paid in full!
Now Adam's kind has been bought back by Him who made us all.
But death could never hold Him, and when He rose again,
All who knew Him saw him there, alive forever, then!
How far from the manger to Calv'ry have we in our hearts, trod?
From Bethlehem, there's one short step to Golgotha, with our God!
Has your heart ever been a Bethlehem? Has Christ been born in you?
"For God so loved, He gave His Son," and what, with Him, will you do?
Oh what will you do with Jesus?
Will ears be deaf, mouth dumb?
As His voice thunders down through the ages,
"Whoever will may come!"
