Posts Tagged ‘Bethlehem’

Bethlehem – Calvary

Calvary – the most


         lavish Gift of the Universe.


Better to be ignorant of It


Than to ignore It.


                – eab, 11/20/09

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The stars slowly dim,

In their domed night,

As faintest light

Merges from the east.

A sycamore is silhouetted

Against the sky,

And nocturnal animals

Return from their feast.

Another day is beginning

In the place,

Just another day,

Another set of hour’s – rat race.


Commerce begins –

Enter a camel train.

A peddler hawks

His trinkets and wares.

The vegetable-stand owner

Begins across the street,


And a Baby cries,

Another day, that’s all.

But wait, a Baby cries – 

Not a Baby in the stall?

Buyers bought and

Sellers sold, again.


Soldiers marched and

Housewives cleaned their rooms.

But the Baby that cried

Was the Son of God in flesh,

The One Who would cause

The dead to come from their cold tombs.

Bethlehem had not seen

Just another day.

Last night the King was born

And He’s well on His way!


Another night will wane

Before long,

The spring of that day

Will seem so same.

Computers will whirl

In skyscrapers around the world.

Wall Street may be brisk

Or maybe another day lame.

It will seem the same.

With telephones ringing,

Airways full of ships of sky,

The radio singing.


But a trump

Will sound as no other.

Christ will come before

That day has closed.

The grand Old Book proclaims

“In a day when ye think not.”

The day will look the same as it started out;

Watch that pose,

And for the Christ-like ones

It will have no close,

Heaven has begun. 

He has returned just as He said. –eab, 6/89


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A carpenter’s Son!  No, no, not that One.

Though of Joseph’s wife He was born.

Though a chisel He knew,

And when He used it chips flew,

He was to more than lumber adorn.


Nazareth, you say!  The answer is nay!

Though He lived there as a mere boy,

Though His sandals and feet,

Left their prints in its street.

Bethlehem was the city of first joy.


Joses’ Brother!  No, He’s some Other.

Though that is how it’s made to seem,

Though they had common blood,

One’s dad came from Adam’s “mud,”

The Other’s Father from beyond stars’ gleam.


An unlearned Rebel!  Nay, He was able

(Though He never sat in their schools

Though from doctor He’d not,

Learned their tittle and their jot)

He, time after time, corrected their rules.


Trials and a slur, contributions were,

Though Christ’s life had a constant tone,

Though anguished in His soul,

He held to His only goal,

And let false opinions die on their own.  –eab, 12/78


Written when I was working with Christ College and Christ Academy in Blount Co., TN.

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“The Sky Can Still Remember”  (stanza 3)

O angels sweet and splendid, throng in our hearts and sing
The wonders which attended the coming of the King;
Till we too, boldly pressing where once the shepherds trod,
Climb Bethlehem’s Hill of Blessing, and find the Son of God.

Phillips Brooks born 12/13/1835 in Boston, Massachusetts.  He was a minister whose people sent him abroad for a year.  His schedule brought him to the Holy Land and on Christmas Eve, brought him to Bethlehem.  The little town (seen in 19th century “lighting”) helped him produced his simple but so loved Carol “O Little Town of Bethlehem.”   Brooks, who never married, loved children and they him.  After his death a story was told of a litttle girl’s reponce to her pastor being in heaven.  She is said to have said to her mother, “Oh mama, how happy the angels will be.”

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I’ve never been to Bethlehem,

Nor walked by Galilee.

And the hills that knew my blessed Lord,

I may never live to see. 

But I’ve tried to trace His footsteps,

Across the Sacred Page. 

And by faith, I know He rules today,

As He has in every age.


O, Faith, faith without it, 

You just cannot please the Lord.

Have faith, faith, to doubt it, 

Brother, you cannot afford.

For faith is the substance

Of things hoped for and yet not seen.

And lack of faith is why the church is so awfully lean.

                                                                         –eab, 11/1973   


Written while principal of Wyandot Christian School in Ohio

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