I have revised this to make it less severe and more in keeping with the joy I feel at Christmas. At this time of year I prefer to focus on life rather than on death, although He was born to die; yet he died to live and rise again, so life is our hallmark, our desire, our destiny. Jesus came to give us life, and that more abundantly.
The little King of Christmas
Lies on a bed of hay,
Robed in swaddling clothes,
With vessels made of clay.
His palace is of wood,
The floor is earthen sod;
He is as small as me
And yet as big as God.
Poor shepherds are His court,
And oxen on Him wait,
For light He has a star,
A barn for an estate.
The wind blows through the slats;
He shivers in the cold.
Rest now, my little King,
You're safe here in the fold.
Oh, little King of Christmas,
Make my heart Your home;
I offer it a manger
For You and You alone.
This is my King for 'aye,
With Him my lot I cast -
The little King of Christmas,
Until my life be past.
~Nick Bowen
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