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Christmas True

by Helen Dowd © 2002

I thank You, God for Christmas true:
The gift of Christ to me, from You.
Christ left His throne to come to earth.
From Prince, to Baby e of lowly birth.
His earthly father was a stranger.
His mother bore Him in a manger.

No newscast flashed around the world.
No grandiose flags unfurled.
No pompous statesmen, gifts did bring.
No one to say, "He is a King."
No dazzle: just the moonlight dim.
Just ox and ass to welcome Him.

Some shepherds, on that dark, dark night
Were startled by a brilliant light.
"Joy to the world," the angles sang.
The hillsides with their chorus rang.
And soon all heaven broke forth in song.
Those humble shepherds sang along.

They hastened to the Babe so sweet.
They bowed, and worshiped at His feet.
They knew their Savior had been born.
They spread the news from town to town.
The people, frankly, were amazed.
They said, "Those shepherds must be crazed."

Bright, in the East, there shone a star.
Wise Magi saw it from afar.
"A King is born," they voiced around.
"Where can His majesty be found?"
They searched until they found the child,
Christ Jesus, Savior, meek and mild.

Those wise Men brought Him gifts of worth.
They praised Jehovah for His birth.
And all mankind from then 'til now,
Should at this season humbly bow.
For had the Savior not been born,
There wouldn't be a Christmas morn.

Luke 2

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This poem was a finalist in the December 2016 poetry contest

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Click Here to contact Helen Dowd to request permission to use this poem.