Christmas Poems

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       In this section of Errand of Angels


Mother Mary

The Man Joseph


Room In The Inn

On going Home for Christmas

A Friend's Greeting

Ready for Christmas

Twas the Night Before Christmas

(Spiritual Version)

Twas the Night Before Christmas

(Nativity Version)


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By Sally Meyer (c) 1997 all rights reserved

It didn't begin in a stable and not in Bethlehem.

It started with an angel in Mary's native land.

'Twas in a town called Nazareth Gabriel came to the virgin fair.

Saying, "Blessed art thou among women," Our Father's Son you'll bear.

Then the angel visited the carpenter who Mary intended to wed.

He came to Joseph in a dream as he lay upon his bed.

"Fear not thou son of David," to take Mary for your wife.

The child of God will need you to tend him in this life.

The big day came, Jesus was born In a manger on a pad of hay.

The angels sang to herald the King on the very first Christmas day.

Then off to spread the happy news to shepherds attending their lambs.

The angel chimed, "Glad tidings I bring" and goodwill to all the land.

The frightened shepherds found comfort in the angelic heavenly chorus.

They sang of peace and joy and a babe who would someday come before us.

Herod sent his wisest men to find the infant King.

So off from the east they followed the star, and precious gifts did bring.

As they departed, an angel told of Herod's wicked plan.

He didn't want to worship the child, but destroy the Son of Man.

Joseph heeded the angel's words, and to Egypt they did flee.

Then listened again when Herod died, and returned to Galilee.

Many years before Christ's birth another prophet was told.

An angel talked to Samuel, a Lamanite of old.

Who were these herald angels chosen by God above?

What valiant servants they must have been to bring us his message of love.

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By Sally Meyer (c) 1997 all rights reserved

Who am I, what am I? That He should think of me,

To bring His Son into the World and teach Him at my knee?

As there they sat with hay all strewn about them on the ground,

She pondered all that lie ahead when they'd leave fair David's town.

By candle light she held her son, and nursed him at her breast.

Then lay him on the golden hay so they could get some rest.

With stalwart Joseph at her side and cattle softly lowing,

She welcomed all, shepherd to king who came by starlight glowing.

In harmony the angels sang reverent hymns of glory.

Mary listened as they told her little one's sacred story.

The bleating of the fleecy lambs was His first lullaby.

A straw filled manger for a crib with animals standing by.

But Mary filled that nursery as only a mother could,

With love and hope and promise, as Father knew she would.

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By Sally Meyer (c) 1997 all rights reserved

With sturdy frame and callused hands, how overlooked, this gentle man.

With hammer and peg and saw and plane, he cut the wood and smoothed the grain.

Trusted by the Father of all to raise His Son, an awesome call.

He never doubted Mary's word, though others claimed it was absurd.

We know he loved the Lord his God, as on to Bethlehem they trod.

With stars so dim his only guide, he walked along by Mary's side.

A crowded town forced them to stay in a tiny stable filled with hay.

He held her close as she winced with pain and squeezed her hand with every strain.

I'm sure he wept a father's tear as the glorious birth grew ever near.

He wiped the drops from off her face, brought straw to soften the birthing place.

And when the infant came at length, he stayed right there to lend her strength.

He welcomed those who traveled far to see the babe beneath the star.

From lowly shepherds to mighty kings all knew they'd witnessed sacred things.

He stood aside, no want for fame, with callused hands and sturdy frame.

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By Sally Meyer (c) 1997 all rights reserved


While shepherds careful vigil kept o'er lambs in fields of green.

The sky took on a brilliant glow and lit the grassy scene.

In dread they looked upon the star that rose anew that night.

Then angels came to calm their fears and tell of the heavenly light.

In word and song they shared the news of the babe who was their king.

They sang of peace and love and joy, and the good will he would bring.

The keepers of the flocks arose and followed the heavenly beam,

But not to gleaming palace walls as it would surely seem.

It led them to an earthen stall where cattle and goats were kept.

And in the manger soft and warm, the little Jesus slept.

Tears filled up their tired eyes and ran down wind burned cheeks.

They had found the promised one, for whom the world still seeks.

Though they were watchers of the flocks, tenders of lamb and ewe,

He was the keeper of God's flock, HE was the shepherd true.

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By Sally Meyer (c) 1997 all rights reserved

How much different would things have been,

If maybe there had been room at the inn?

No hay, no manger, no beasts, no stall.

Rather, plenty of beds and blankets for all.

Not a proprietor in his right mind

Would allow all those shepherds, the filthiest kind,

To enter the doors of his establishment,

Not even the ones, who by angels were sent!

And the star overhead, no matter the beam,

Through walls made of mud, would not have been seen.

No bleating of lamb, no cooing of bird.

Would songs of the angels have even been heard?

Maybe the kings would have been turned away.

Foreigners weren't welcome in that place or that day.

Don't blame the innkeepers doing their jobs.

How could they know it was the Son of God?

Like the rest of his life, it was part of the plan.

A humble birth, a humble man.

Yes, it happened as it should have been,

No place to stay. No room in the inn.

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Those Hands

by Sally Meyer 2000

2000 years have come and gone since that silent and holy night.

The eve of the birth of our Savior, a day that would bring new light.

There sat Mary in the quiet stable, caressing her newborn babe.

Hardly more than a child, herself, giving birth in a cold, dark cave.

Gently unwrapping the little boy, unwinding swaddling bands.

His tiny fingers encircled her own as she stroked his little hands.

She must have asked herself and smiled, "What will these hands do someday?"

"Will they farm the earth or build a house? Will they work with chisel or clay?"

How could she know as she tickled his fingers and counted them, one to ten.

The things they would do, in a few short years, to bless the lives of men?

The angel had told of His deity and His part in God's sacred plan.

But she couldn't know just where He would go or what He would do with those hands.

As a boy in Joseph's carpenter shop, they would use a hammer and saw.

Then on the shores of Galilee, break bread as He taught God's law.

How many times from cradle to cross would those hands change the lives of men.

As He healed from the bed and raised from the dead and forgave them, time and again.

He would use His grown up hands to pull a child to His knee.

Fingers would wipe a tear from an eye, apply mud so a man could see.

Those hands would be clasped in tearful prayer in Gethsemane's Garden, alone.

Then nailed to a cross on Calvary's Hill, His endless love to show.

To save us from death, He'd give His life. His innocent blood would spill.

He would cross the veil to His father's arms, His part in the plan fulfilled.

At Christmas time and all year through, remember who set us free.

With broken heart and outstretched hands, He bids us, "Come to me."

(Copied by permission)

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by Edgar A. Guest
He little knew the sorrow that was in his vacant
He never guessed they'd miss him, or he'd
        surely have been there;
He couldn't see his mother or the lump that
        filled her throat,
Or the tears that started falling as she read
        his hasty note;
And he couldn't see his father, sitting sor-
        rowful and dumb,
Or he never would have written that he thought
        he couldn't come.
He little knew the gladness that his presence
        would have made,
And the joy it would have given, or he never
        would have stayed.
He didn't know how hungry had the little
        mother grown
Once again to see her baby and to claim him
        for her own.
He didn't guess the meaning of his visit
        Christmas Day
Or he never would have written that he
        couldn't get away.
He couldn't see the fading of the cheeks that
        once were pink,
And the silver in the tresses; and he didn't
        stop to think
How the years are passing swiftly, and next
        Christmas it might be
There would be no home to visit and no mother
        dear to see.
He didn't think about it -- I'll not say he didn't
He was heedless and forgetful or he'd surely
        have been there.
Are you going home for Christmas? Have you
        written you'll be there?
Going home to kiss the mother and to show
        her that you care?
Going home to greet the father in a way to
        make him glad?
If you're not I hope there'll never come a time
        you'll wish you had.
Just sit down and write a letter -- it will make
        their heart strings hum
With a tune of perfect gladness -- if you'll tell
        them that you'll come.


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The following poem speaks of a good friend at Christmas time and should be a reminder that Jesus Christ is our Greatest friend; He is the kind of friend we should become.

by Edgar A. Guest
I'd like to be the sort of friend that you have
        been to me;
I'd like to be the help that you've been always
        glad to be;
I'd like to mean as much to you each minute
        of the day
As you have meant, old friend of mine, to me
        along the way.
I'd like to do the big things and the splendid
        things for you,
To brush the gray from out your skies and
        leave them only blue;
I'd like to say the kindly things that I so oft
        have heard,
And feel that I could rouse your soul the way
        that mine you've stirred.
I'd like to give you back the joy that you have
        given me,
Yet that were wishing you a need I hope will
        never be;
I'd like to make you feel as rich as I, who
        travel on
Undaunted in the darkest hours with you to
        lean upon.
I'm wishing at this Christmas time that I could
        but repay
A portion of the gladness that you've strewn
        along my way;
And could I have one wish this year, this only
        would it be:
I'd like to be the sort of friend that you have
        been to me.


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Author Unknown

"Ready for Christmas," she said with a sigh,

As she gave a last touch to the gifts piled high.

Then wearily sat for a moment and read

Till soon, very soon, she was nodding her head.

Then quietly spoke a voice in her dream!

"Ready for Christmas!  What do you Mean?

When only last week

You wouldn't acknowledge your friend on the street."

"Ready for Christmas, while holding a grudge!

Perhaps you better let God be the judge.

Why, how can the Christ child come and abide

In a heart that is selfish and filled with pride?"

"Ready for Christmas, when only today

A beggar lad came and you turned him away

Without even a smile to show that you cared!

So little he asked, he could have been spared."

"Ready for Christmas! You've worked, it is true,

But just doing the things that you wanted to do."

"Ready for Christmas, your circle's to small.

Why, you are not ready for Christmas at all."

She awoke with a start, and a cry of despair.

"There's so little time, and I've still to prepare!

Oh, Father, forgive me, I see what you mean;

To be ready means more than a house swept clean."

"Yes, more that the giving of gifts and a tree,

It's the heart swept clean that he wants to see,

A heart that is free from bitterness, sin,

Ready for Christmas means ready for Him!"

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'Twas the Night Before Christmas (Christmas Spirit Version)


By Debra Coe (c) 1998 all rights reserved

'Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care
With thoughts of St. Nicholas and what he'd bring there.
The children were nestled all snug in their beds
Without a moment of bowing their heads.
The scriptures were thrown on the shelves without care.
Little hope of remembering the precious words there.
And I with the tinsel and Ma with the lights
Had prepared for Christmas with no thoughts of Christ.
We had snowmen and elves and of course Santa Claus.
We thought we had decorated without any flaws.
For weeks we'd prepared with lots of traditions,
Cards of course and so much work in the kitchen.
We'd been to parties galore all dressed up in frills
And spent hours at stores to get the best deals.
The lights on the house were all flashing with fun
Lots of presents under the tree; we thought we were done.
We thought not of the needy, nor help to a stranger,
We thought not of the poor, and not of a manger.
No angels were singing in our house that night
We hadn't invited them so none were in sight.
The real spirit of Christmas was absent as well.
For only Christ's spirit will make our hearts swell.
And I wondered that Christmas how it could be
That the Christmas spirit wasn't stronger in me
Why Christmas didn't seem as it was in the past
Why Christmas just came and went by very fast.
When out of my wondering mind did appear.
Some scriptures I'd learned as a child so dear.
Of a loving kind Father who gave His own Son
God saw all our needs and chose Christ as the one.
Christ has the power to serve us so well
Healing the things that can lead to spiritual jail
I could change if I wanted with eyes that could see
"Come Follow Me," was His only plea.
I decided to change and begged forgiveness please
And asked how to serve Him while down on my knees
Serve others and do it as if unto Him
Was the answer I heard in the sound of a hymn
I rushed from my bed and I got scriptures for all.
So we could start Christmas just right after all.
So Christmas day we planed for the months yet to come
Of people we'd serve and we talked of the fun
Now Angels are singing in our home today
We finally invited them to come our way.
And Christmas is lasting the whole long year through,
With scriptures, prayer and devotion His spirit grew.


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Twas the Night Before Christmas

Author Unknown


'Twas the first night of Christmas a long time ago

The hillside was peaceful, the moon was aglow.

The world couldn't know from what happened before

That men would remember this night evermore.


The sheep on the hillside--their days journey over

Were dreaming sweet dreams of a field full of clover.

The shepherds were watchful while guarding their flock

The earth was their pillow, the stars were their clock.


Then all of a sudden, they jumped at the sight

Of the sky all ablaze with a heavenly light.

They huddled in fear, then they started to rise

As the lightening-like flash tore open the skies.


The heavens were split by the silvery ray.

The dark disappeared and the night became day.

And lo, at the end of the rainbow of light

Appeared then an angel to banish their fright.


The angel brought news of a birth in a manger

And bade them to hasten to welcome the stranger.

For Mary had just given birth to a boy

Whose coming would bring so much comfort and joy.


A choir of angels looked down from the sky

And heavenly voices were heard from on high:

Peace be on earth and good will to all men.

The Savior has come on this night, Amen.


The heavenly angels then faded from sight.

The sky once again turned from day to night.

The shepherds all quietly rose from the ground

And hurried to go where the child would be found.


As they reached Bethlehem and the inn was in sight

It led like a path to a soft little bed

And shone very tenderly on a child's head.

The child in the manger was sleeping so sound

His eyes were still closed, as the shepherds stood round.


Thousands of years would be warmed by the glow.

Guided by light from a bright shining star

Came a pilgrimage led of three kings from afar.

They were dressed in the finest of satins and lace.

Their complexions were that of an Orient race.


The three wealthy kings were wise men and proud

But they went to the Christ child and solemnly bowed.

They came bearing treasures of incense and gold

To that sweet little child, still not very old.


The star in the sky twinkled down from above

The world was awakened to kindness and love.

The past was forgotten, the future was bright

And the spirit of Christmas was born on that night

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