1998

When we are young, our fancies can awaken
A merry thought, such as a gift or two
We hope to get. (And some we’ve gently shaken,
Attempting to detect and guess a clue.)

The years, for some, wear out the magic feeling,
As starry eyes are washed with salty tears.
As blissful fancies learn the need for kneeling,
Our souls turn crystal windows into mirrors.

Persistent hopes on fragile wings may hover,
The hope that warmth and love will never fade,
That kindness, if it’s faltered, will recover,
That happiness is not a mere charade,

That dreams and ideals formed in early childhood
Can keep stride and mature as children grow
From visionary youth into adulthood,
From idealists to those who see and know.

But there is hope! Recall the ancient story
About a child. Now Bethlehem comes to mind,
Where angels sang of God and gave Him glory
And told of peace on earth for all mankind.

One much more capable than any other
Was not too proud to love and reach His hand
To lift us mortals as an elder brother,
Bestowing to us grace and power to stand.

He who was free of any fault or failing
Was willing to give self in sacrifice,
To suffer scourging, thorns, yes, even nailing
Upon the cross, and death to pay the price

For us. He gave the gift that is supernal.
Through Him alone can we be one with God,
Have immortality and life eternal.
Our Savior, Jesus Christ, His name we laud.

It’s easier to find a peaceful slumber,
An undisturbed repose despite alarms
Or tempest. Nothing need the soul encumber
When we enjoy the shelter of His arms.