Faithful Magic
In Bethlehem, asked
A Father and Mother
Of a long Christmas past.
Did his fair head lie
Where my babe now liest?
Did his virgin Mother
Comfort his cries?
Did cattle and lambkins
Surround and protect
The hope of earth’s wretched
The poor, the neglect?
Were presents of Myrrh, Frankincense, Gold
Brought to God’s own child
As oft we’ve been told?
II
My baby is dying
No gifts will be given
His mother’s not virgin-his father’s not heaven.
So we madest to venture where love-child does lay
With hopes that our baby should somehow be saved.
If not, prayest we
Then with jesus he’ll stay.
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