*Past Poems Celebrating the Birth of Christ*
BETHLEHEM’S BARN
Who was that born in a Bethlehem barn,
Born among burrows and beasts of the field,
Laid on a pillow–best barley could yield?
Is this some over-told tale of the past,
Freighted with elements, known to be yarn?
No, the Messiah came earth-ward at last!
2
Where was His home on the footstool of God?
Is its locality search’d out with ease?
Dusty street, city name, country too, please.
Ephratah, Judah, hill country of yore,
Precious spot; foremost midst earth’s stony sod.
Christ became Man — Such was never before!
3
When born? December?!? Traditions decreed!
Doubts by the millions? Tried lore to discard?
(Ask poor philosophers; not poorer bard.)
Matters it greatly what day, or what year?
Roses replaced in the heart, sin’s old weed.
One day or other, our Lord drew men near.
4
He could have come down, walk’d in His full-size.
No! Babe, then little Boy, later He grew
Into a Teenager–puberty knew;
Even had siblings and step-dad, though mild.
Growing ‘mongst men helped Him win the full-prize;
Purposely, Jesus came weak-as-a-Child.
5
What’s the result of His holy, short life?
Hospitals, colleges, Homes for poor youth,
Pastors and churches where Gospel is truth.
His one, His holy, one-life is no yarn.
Only eternity will show the strife
Settled forever, by “Bethlehem’s barn.”
– eab, 2000
Separate-Holy 