I WITNESS...

              

My back was tired and weary, my feet were aching too.

I couldn't take another step, yet, our journey wasn't through.

We'd been traveling all day long beneath the grueling sun

And with night fast approaching, day's work was almost done.

A roof; a stall; a bale of hay would make it all seem right,

But I couldn't help but notice the Miracle born that night.

For in that tiny village with all the world asleep;

While angels sang hosannas and shepherds their flocks did keep.

There in a barren stable with no one else around,

The Holy Son of God from heaven had come down.

No majestic cymbals played; no blast from trumpet horn

Was there to greet God's heavenly gift; that blessed Christ-child born.

No royal robe nor kingly cloth; no precious burlap sack;

But just the dirty blanket that I had worn upon by back.

A dusty, dirty blanket that was ragged, tattered, torn

Was all I had to give the Child on this first Christmas morn.

For in that lowly stable with no place to lay his head;

They took my feeding manger and made His princely bed.

So, they wrapped Him in swaddling blanket and I leaned closer that I might see

That precious Babe, the Son of God, smiling up at me.

Now gone was all my weariness, my troubles had vanished too;

And if you celebrate His birth, he'll do the same for you.

For He cares not if you're wealthy or have abundance as your lot;

He only cares that if you give, you give of what you've got.

W. Patrick Queen © 1997