When you are near to the tiny new babe,
extravagant love in coming to earth,
the incarnation of his virgin birth,
the light of the gospel that will not fade . . .
There is a reason for his kindness
to us, the season of rejoicing tells
of gifts from the Magi, frankincense smells
of beauty, myrrh restores our innocence.
Gold is the enduring royalty now,
an immediacy with God’s future—
our lives are now restored to us, sutured,
and sin is no longer the altar bowed.
To the underworld, death! For Christ is born—
if he should then die with bright crown of thorns.