By Myra F. Smith

He came to earth on borrowed time

His parents poor; no royal line.

They birth him in a manager bare

Shepherds, wise men, seek him there.

A lad, he hails from Nazareth land

Amazes the elders; his mind so grand.

Wondrous boy, wise in words,

Who is this child?

Their hearts are stirred.

Baptized by John, a wilderness man

The voice of God says, “Behold my son!”

Teaching and healing; the crowds sit still

He preaches the Word; He gives and gives.

He has no agenda, no political spin

Yet Romans and Jews go after him.

Tortured and weak; hanging in shame

Our sins forgiven; the Lamb is slain.

“Forgive them, Father”, he cries from the cross

Beaten, he dies for a world so lost

His spirit rises; his legacy complete!

No man so holy; no man so great.

Infant holy, infant lowly,

Grant us wisdom; grant us grace,

Ever to worship you, our Savior

Sent from heaven, our souls to save.


  1. Myra, how beautiful! I haven’t gotten a note one out to everybody letting them know what a wonderful time I had with all the laughter and visiting and reflection of the day. Thank you for organizing everything, it was an effort I know and I appreciate it.  We haven’t had a chance to call Riley, Jimmy left for India the next day. And didnt get home until yesterday morning. We got back home from picking him up at the airport @ 2:35am (!) yesterday morning and we had to be in Sugarland for a 10:00am major dentist appt. for me and I have been knocked out since. Starting to walk around a little bit now, but mostly on the couch. I’m not sure, but I believe Jimmy konked out as soon as he got me settled and in bed. He was exhausted from this trip, lots of travel by car after he got to India. Back to the poem–it gave me goosebumps. Thank you for s beautiful start into the Holliday Season! Love ya! Jan

    Sent from my Verizon Wireless 4G LTE Smartphone

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