The First Christmas Eve

Weary Mary, so tired and worn
Bewildered where her Child should be born,
Apprehensive, naturally,
As any first-time mother would be.

Anxious Joseph, so full of care
For his beloved and the Child she would bear,
Seeking a shelter for the night
And pity for their desperate plight.

A stable was their resting-place;
No bassinet with silk and lace
For this Holy Child was found
But a crude manger on the ground.

But Father God knows where they are
And sends His Light by a glorious Star
And for the Baby's lullaby
Heavenly angels sing in the sky.

No Santa Claus or shining tree
But Glory for all mankind to see.
His coming was a gift for all
Who on His mercy humble call.

Seeking Him, our sheep we would leave
As shepherds on that first Christmas Eve,
And humble now before Him fall
As that Holy Night we once more recall.

Honoria A. Groves