WHO IS HE? A poem for Christmas. Rev. John Shearman
It was a stone manger, that place where he lay;
not a fine oaken cradle, but a box filled with hay.
His mother sang to him suckling her breast,
while shepherds came kneeling at angels’ behest.
Is this the Messiah? Not a king, but a child,
Just like our children in a world just as wild.
Does God really want us to follow this boy?
Can he be the Saviour who has not one toy?
The hopes of the world, invested in pain,
will not bring another; there’s nothing to gain
in pining and searching, in warring and strife;
for God’s saving love came in that helpless life.