A tale of the First Christmas

T’was the eve of the First Christmas

When all throught the night,

All people in town

Saw a star shining bright.


They gathered in fields

Under such mighty event,

Paraphrasing sacred rolls

Quoting Isaiah’s advent.


“A king is to rise

Out of a virgin birth,

Startin’ humble beginings

With a bed made of turf”.


Such tales of ancient prophets

Written in scriptures of old,

Sang the rise of a new era,

New directions to unfold.


A Saviour was to emerge

from the town of Bethlehem,

Where David’s own descendants

Raised prayers to El, “Amen”.


To witness such holy miracle,

With each other’s soul to bond,

Many people found their path

From far and way beyond.


Wise men came from the east

in hot weather, rain and cold,

Bringing the boy many gifts:

Frankincense, Myrrh and Gold.


Shepherds from the valleys

Found the family out of danger,

A king had just been crowned

Sleeping safe in a manger.


A dark cave thus became

A most holy and trusted shelter

Previously known as sanctuary

To farm animals in welter.


Those who thought this was the end

Of yet another birth’s story,

Would awe that centuries on

Yeshua’s birth sustains its Glory.

Stained glass art

Happy celebrations of Yeshua’s birth.


Copyright (c) Miguel Montenegro