Borne forth from darkness into light
A child is born this Christmas night
A Mother’s pain is turned to joy
as she swaddles her little boy.
Their habitation is the place
where beasts of burden spend the night.
Their bodies' heat the only warmth
on this cold and bitter night.
This child shall be called many things:
A fraud, a Myth, the King of Kings.
But Mary’s heart, a secret minds
This is the son of the Divine.
This night is born to us a King:
A true judge of the soul’s gain and loss,
whose wisdom will enflame men’s minds.
whose arms embrace us from the cross.
Dec 2, 2011
Dec 2, 2011 at 9:23 PM UTC
Borne forth from darkness into light
A child is born this Christmas night
A Mother’s pain is turned to joy
as she swaddles her little boy.
Their habitation is the place
where beasts of burden spend the night.
Their bodies' heat the only warmth
on this cold and bitter night.
This child shall be called many things:
A fraud, a Myth, the King of Kings.
But Mary’s heart, a secret minds
This is the son of the Divine.
This night is born to us a King:
A true judge of the soul’s gain and loss,
whose wisdom will enflame men’s minds.
whose arms embrace us from the cross.
A poem about the Nativity
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