NATIVITY RHYMES

NATIVITY RHYMES Touch of Christmas Cheer and Hope

Heaven Looks Upon Mary

This is the chosen little girl With hazel eyes and hair awhirl, Gaily gathering hillside flowers Or watching clouds for hours and hours; Singing tunes with sweet bird’s breath Or skipping streets of Nazareth; Father, this is she.

This is the chosen blooming maid, 1

C. Doug Blair, 2011

Who with her friends had often played The rudiments of family life, Preparing now to be a wife.

Observing all the sacred rites: Passover, Purim, Feast of Lights.

Father, this is she.

This is the chosen woman now Reflecting prophecy on how A virgin gives Messiah life, And she not yet kind Joseph’s wife.

Her’s is the vessel, now the time.

She will accept your Seed Divine.

Father, this is she.

This is the chosen handmaid now, Receiving gladly Gabriel’s vow.

The first to know, fair bless’ed one That now is her salvation come.

We watched her grow so beautifully, A precious child to you and me; Father, this is she Oh yes, dear Father, this is she.

Fulfill her waiting womb with me.

This is the time, this is her story, This the moment Christ forsakes Glory.

Wondrous conception like none other, She is now made my earthly mother.

Awesome purity.

Bless her with grace to watch me grow.

From cradle to cross she’ll love me so!

Yet I will not have much time to share In thanksgiving for a mother’s care.

Yes, bless her with grace, as now we start, For one day a sword shall pierce her heart.

Father, this is she.

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Bethlehem King

This is the King?

This is the King?

This is the one for whom all angels sing?

This is the King?

Wee fragile thing.

This is the Son of the Lord?

Here in this stall?

Here in this stall?

Here in this squalor, so rude, beasts and all?

Here in this stall?

By God's own call?

This is the Son of the Lord?

Of this maid born?

Of this maid born?

Of this girl resting in straw to keep warm?

Of this maid born?

Salvation's horn?

This is the Son of the Lord?

By shepherds praised?

By shepherds praised?

By simple shepherds, unlearned and amazed?

By shepherds praised?

Our Good News raised?

This is the Son of the Lord?

What times of strife.

What times of strife.

What risk that Herod would snuff out his life.

What times of strife.

Wickedness rife.

Could he be Son of the Lord?

Star's diadem?

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Star's diadem?

On David's city, the promise of men.

Star's diadem?

O'er Bethlehem.

Long looked for Son of the Lord?

Strange men offer.

Strange men offer.

Strange gifts of frankincense, rich gold and myrrh Strange signs of priest-king With death to endure.

This is the Son of the Lord.

Humility.

Humility.

Humble the Christ came to you and to me.

Humility.

How we must see!

This is the Son of the Lord.

I am but straw.

I am but sheep.

I am but squalor, my wickedness deep.

I am unlearned.

Christ end my sleep!

Be born in me, Jesus, Lord.

Micah 5: 2But thou, Bethlehem Ephratah, though thou be little among the thousands of Judah, yet out of thee shall he come forth unto me that is to be ruler in Israel; whose goings forth have been from of old, from everlasting.

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Innkeeper

So why did I do it?

It still isn't clear.

The rooms were all taken; The busiest this year.

And all of them dusty, And all of them tired.

The trek to their birth-place

By Rome now required.

A census, the issue.

A right royal pain.

And doubtless the purpose More tribute to gain.

The evening was settling, The rush nearly o'er.

But still came a knocking For help at my door.

The couple so tender, The young girl with child.

The husband imploring With eyes almost wild.

About to refuse them, I glanced once at her.

Amazingly peaceful And patient, demure...

"But wait, there's the stable.

Not much of a spot.

But shelter and bedding; That's all I have got.

And liquids and lanterns And clean swaddling fare.

Go quickly, my children, Your baby comes there!"

(And so near my livestock Messiah was born.

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The night sky, the shepherds, The earth-changing morn.)

Bustling Bethlehem

No room Amidst the thrash of life, The stores and wares of trade.

The household sphere.

The daily grind.

The roles which must be played.

No room Reserved for inner peace, For solace without price.

For eyes that see Beyond the now.

For change, for hope, for Christ.

Simeon’s Day

Oh the promise had been given And it fueled so many years, As the old man graced the Temple With his praises and his tears.

With his searchings of the scripture And his seasons rich in prayer.

Though observers often wondered ‘Would this get him anywhere?’

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But he sensed deep in his spirit That the time somehow was right For the entrance of Messiah For the shining of God’s light.

For the Hope of all the ages And the answer to his sin.

As the day had barely started And a baby was brought in.

This, a son with eager parents And a modest gift of doves Meant to purchase now the boy’s rite (As in Jewry it behooves.)

And the old one heard the Spirit Saying, ”Now it has been done.

Here, your life’s long expectation.

Here to bless you, God’s own Son.” It was strange to watch old Simeon With his look of boyish glee, With his face illumed from Heaven, As he hugged his prophecy.

Baby yes, but Son of David, God among us, Joy’s release.

Having served well, faithful Simeon, Take the next step-die in peace.

Luke 2: 26And it was revealed unto him by the Holy Ghost, that he should not see death, before he had seen the Lord's Christ.

27And he came by the Spirit into the temple: and when the parents brought in the child Jesus, to do for him after the custom of the law, 28Then took he him up in his arms, and blessed God, and said, 29Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace, according to thy word: 30For mine eyes have seen thy salvation, 31Which thou hast prepared before the face of all people; 32A light to lighten the Gentiles, and the glory of thy people Israel.

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33And Joseph and his mother marvelled at those things which were spoken of him.

Jesus, Just in Time

I love to consider God's perfect control over the things which He must see accomplished. It was so in the birth of Jesus. A Roman emperor had to declare a census at just the right time. The one in power was perfect for the assignment. He was in love with his own glory and took special delight in collecting numbers on the resources and people within his grasp.

When the people of God heard of this command to be numbered in the places of their birth, they made special protest. 'The travel required would throw the whole territory into turmoil and would suspend all commercial endeavour! Why not allow the registration in the places of current residence?'

A special delegation of Jews traveled to the centre of the Empire to make protest. Implementation of the census was delayed accordingly, so that the protest might be heard and considered.

Meanwhile the child in the womb of little Mary of Nazareth is coming to full term.

She is betrothed to Joseph the carpenter, of the lineage of David and the tribe of Judah. A wedding has taken place in spite of the embarrassment of the early pregnancy. God has comforted Joseph in a dream, and Joseph is a Hebrew of such spiritual sensitivity that he discerns the dream correctly.

Disappointing news upon the delegation's return. Now the whole society must hit the road; and Joseph and Mary must travel to Bethlehem. Just as prophesied in Micah 5:2.

Motion pictures have adequately portrayed to us the painful trek, the panic in the over-crowded City of David, the loneliness and humility of the young 8

couple, the stalwart courage of the teenager in labour and the ultimate relief and faith-boost in the securing of lodging among the gentle beasts. The moment of arrival of the new life in the film "The Nativity Story" is aweinspiring.

Consider the control of our Heavenly Father in all of this; with empires and egotists; with diplomacy; with conditions on the road; with a young tradesman and his bride.

And a precious babe arrives in the right place at the right time...

"Let Earth receive her King."

Daybreak Pushing Snow

Bruce was starting to get the feel of it again. Three-thirty rising. Check the fluids. Test the blade lift. Canvas the parked car situation. This was the second coffee shop parking lot for the day.

The overnight snow had been heavy and wet. He could tell that the truck tune-up had been worth it. Almost decided against the job. Last year had been so light on snowfall.

But now things looked better. Payments would be made on the truck. On the braces purchased for the girl friend's daughter. On the back support due to the "ex".

The radio program featured the same old morning crew. The same small talk. The same sarcastic humour at the expense of a celebrity in scandal.

Conversational ping-pong. The woman announcer laughed like a man.

Cheap jokes.

Aggravated, Bruce spun the dial at random, and then gathered speed to move the heavy sparkling wave northward to the large pile right of the blue Jeep.

Nothing interesting coming from the radio. Just some community info.

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Click.

Turning southward to address another section of the lot, he saw it for the first time across the street. Church bulletin sign. Spotlit. Reading, "God Donned Diapers". He just chuckled and gave more acceleration.

But then with each swath of the harvest of snow, he saw it again. "God Donned Diapers". By reflex he reached for the radio to give it another try.

Then a little more volume..."born to raise the sons of earth. Born to give them second birth. Hark the herald, angels sing. Glory to the newborn King."

The random spin had brought him to the local inspirational F M channel. He left it there for the next hour and two more parking lots.

Glory in the Straw Wouldn’t you know it! Christmas Eve and that cow had decided that it was time.

Supper had been hasty as Marj and Janet had to make it to the Church for pre-service preparations.

Ken put the cow in a separate and more spacious stall with fresh straw liberally spread. Benjy, the nine year old, said that he wanted to keep Dad company and observe the event. It would be his second. Rather squeamish last time.

Wind was picking up outside, as the two made their third half-hour check.

She was on her side now. Some evidence of crowning. They would stay.

Ken nodded to the boy to jack up the electric heater a notch.

Benjy registered that look which comes on a young man. Something of selfimportance. Something of fear.

The girl wasn’t issuing a sound, although she swung her head up once and around as a contraction got serious.

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“Look Son, the nose.”

It was introducing itself over forward-pointing legs. And then that remarkable flowing extrusion of pliable liquid life.

Out now. A male. Ken was quick to see the phlegm problem at the mouth: “Listen Benjy, give me that piece of tube.” He probed the mouth and nasal passages. Still no breathing.

“Swing open the stall door and then step aside to that corner.”

The farmer approached the newborn from behind the back and lifted it, slippery as it was. In two strides he was at the gate and threw the sorry arrival across the top board. The shock to its midriff brought the first relieving grunt and gasp.

Gently now, Ken cradled the little one and placed it beside the head of its Mother for the licking and bonding to begin.

“Good job, Benjy. This one’s a beauty. Sorta feels like a manger, Don’t it?”

He could see the Mother staring at him. Just for a second. Then she returned to her new charge.

“Good job, Girl.”

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