Friday, December 23, 2011

Christmas 2011

My God, my God, how can it be,
You sent Your Son to die for me?
Virgin chosen like no other
Purest vessel for your mother.

The feeding trough a resting place,
For one brought forth from Full of Grace.
A fitting place to lay the head
Of One who came to be our Bread.

Can it be, it’s just a myth,
That children find amusement with?
A holiday that’s set aside
For toys and tots and pumpkin pies?

For some it may be such a time
For decorating trees of pine.
For wreaths of holly, green and bright,
For colored bulbs that light the night.

But now I ask: Before He came,
What was it like to live in shame,
Where Paradise to sin was lost,
And no one here could pay the cost?

To look upon our history,
And see our lives eternally.
Apart from Him, and far away,
Because for sin we could not pay.

I see it now with clarity
There’s quite a stark disparity
From what is offered every time
In simple gifts of bread and wine.

Emmanuel is present here
To drive away our every fear.
And when we look upon the creche
We see our God who took on flesh.

So let us not a moment waste,
And like the shepherds, go in haste
And never let the chance go past
To meet with Him at Holy Mass.

Let the Potter Mold the Clay

How many are my sinful ways,
So often times throughout the day
With evil thoughts and words I face
Another careless fall from Grace.

I say I want to break this chain,
But every time I sin again.
Unwilling now to suffer pain,
Instead I risk eternal gain

How foolish for this sinful man
To think he can avoid God’s plan
When pleasure fades and shame sets in,
Why did again I turn from Him?

Just give that beast a little line,
And see how quickly he entwines
With chains of greed and gluttony
He tries to hold his sway on me.

That vicious creature full of lies
With talons clamped on me he tries
To turn my heart from loving Him,
To following my every whim.

Oh Full of Grace, what would you say
To help me on this rocky way,
When often times I turn away
And let the Devil have his way?

My little one, It’s not your strength
That keeps you strong to any length.
Just trust in Him, the Crucified
Will wash you clean, and be your guide.

Confess with regularity
Your sinfulness and frailty.
For in this pure humility
Your soul will find tranquility.

My Son knows well the needs of men,
And showers down His graces when
You turn to Him throughout the day,
And let the Potter mold the clay.