A Christmas Poem

Our God is far higher than the notes and rhymes

Of the greatest players and poets of all places and times

Yet He generously inhabits the most artless praise

From the hearts of contrite sinners believing His grace

In the city of David, God's light has shone

Look there in a stable, the Child is born

The angels here, in a holy throng 

Are heard angelically singing their beautiful song

They sing with glad tidings and good will toward men

But for them the same song is a requiem

For Heaven's High Prince of Peace has now

To our cold, dark world descended low

Clothed now in mortal form
To make the most miserable depths of Sheol His dorm

All this to save sinners; broken, contrite

Reconciled to Him; wayward hearts set aright

Our God is far deeper than sin, death and shame

To deliver us from these three things He came

It may be at one's darkest place
That one meets the loving Savior's face

Trembling now I'd

With these feelings inside

Of reverence and adoration

With words here confide

With six strings allied

A song of great celebration!

But alas! All my words and melody

Too insipid to compare with His rhapsody

Which He has composed from eternity

Even unto eternity

Let it, then, so be

Let Him write in me

Let it, then, so be

Let Him live in me

Conduct, in me

His own symphony