The Scent of CHRISTMAS

In the beginning was the word,

And the word was with God,

Then there came the time for fufilment,

The word in flesh, Oh this was the moment.

The medium, a young betrothed virgin;

He who would come to devour sin,

Was to be sired only by God’s spirit,

In his body the seed of sin could not fit.

In the fullness and exactness of time,

It was almost like you could hear the bells chime,

There was born a little baby called Jesus,

Just in time to free us from sin’s curse.

His birthplace; no hospital, just a manger,

Exposed to germs, fleas and every kind of danger,

The son of a poor and lowly carpenter,

For his needs as an infant, he would have to cater.

We like sheep, had gone astray,

For our debts of sin he had come to pay,

Look at that hand, so weak and frail,

Who would have known it would carry a nail.

His birth with it carried a purpose,

One that was fulfilled at the moment he rose,

The day the stone from the grave was rolled,

He gave us a song: “Joy to the World