“The King of Kings?” the angels said,
“A crown of gold upon His head?
Where shall it be, and who shall come
To celebrate the Holy One?
Is Bethlehem a palace gold?
Will every town and king be told?
Is this young girl a wealthy queen?
Will all His glory soon be seen?”
“Not quite,” said God upon His throne
“The ox and lamb will watch alone
And not a palace, but the hay
Is the place where him they’ll lay
The girl is poor, her husband plain
He’ll not be known a babe of fame.
And just some shepherds, cold I’d say,
Will hear the news in some soft way.”
The angels gasped to hear God’s plan.
The Prince of Peace a mortal man!
And is it true that none shall hear
Except the few who crouch in fear?
“We must not let it be,” said they
“Let us go and sing, we pray
May we announce when He is born
And tell the shepherds He is Lord?”
And so when blackness filled the sky
There came a distant lullaby
To the fields the angels came
And filled the night with Jesus’ name.
“Glory!” from their hearts they sang.
From hill to hill their music rang.
“Glad tidings, Peace! And guess who’s born?
It’s Jesus Christ, the Lord of Lords!”
© Serenity Bohon