What Christmas Means To Me Poem by John Yaws

"Unto us a child is born", the prophet spake in days of yore.
A virgin bringing forth a Son, the like was never seen before.
The lowly stall, the manger bed, no room for them within the inn,
This pauper Child would one day say, to men, "Ye must be born again".

The smoking flax He did not quench, a bruised reed he never broke-
A Lamb, before His slayers dumb; none ever spake as this Man spoke.
He raised the dead, made blind eyes see, and made the wretched leper clean,
He healed the lame, made dumb men speak, delivered Mary Magdalene...

He turned plain water into wine, and then came walking on the sea-
And granted Simon his request, when he said, "Bid me come to thee".
And still the invitation, "Come"! Goes out to "whosoever will"-
He'll save them to the uttermost, and hearts will peace and joy fill.

But tarry lest we run ahead, the prophet said in his next breath-
"A Son is given unto us"! This time he's speaking of His death..
A Son, not child, with full consent, then bore the Cross up Calvary's hill-
His face was set, just like a flint. He came to do His Father's will.

That you and I, who had no hope... might live with Him eternally.
I see a cross upon a hill, not some cheap, tinsel-covered tree.
The greatest gift God ever gave, was when He gave His Son, you see-
Salvation for a hell-bound soul, that is what Christmas means to me!