HEAVENS MOULD

No royal palace,
no royal throne,
No silk lined crib to keep You warm.
No servants running here and there,
No royal robes for You to wear.
No royal banquet for Your birth,
No royal crown for You on earth.

A dirty stable, cold and bare,
With ox and donkey biding there.
Hay for silk to keep You warm,
Wrapped in swaddling, old and torn.
The king of heaven on earth is born,
Yet, no royal crown by You is worn.

The angels sang Your glory,
The shepherds heard the story.
Wise men followed the natal star,
People flocked from near and far.
Gifts to give and praise to sing,
For a baby born a king.

He does not need a crown of gold,
He wears a crown from heavens mould.



Jesus died for you

Georgina Smith


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