One baby boy, was his Mother’s joy,
Cradled, warm upon her knee.
The Holy birth, was a gift to earth,
A Saviour for you and me.
A tiny life, knowing yet, no strife,
Was now waiting to begin.
He came to save, and therefore forgave,
Our vast multitudes of sin.
Some shepherds they heard what had occurred,
And followed a Star post haste.
Three wise men too, on their camels, knew
This new King had to be traced.
Rough the cattle stall, with mud brick wall,
Crude built manger filled with straw.
This special child, so gentle and mild,
Was a Lord we could adore.
So this babe, so small, did thus enthral,
All those who knelt down to pray.
He’s become our guide, Christ glorified,
Still here in our hearts today.
© Ernestine Northover
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem