Twas the Night Ere the Census
by Dale McKinnon
Twas the night ere the census
and all through the inn
Sons of David were sleeping
and all of their kin.
When there entered a man
with his wife in travail.
They were tired and hungry.
She looked frightened and pale.
We have no more room,
the sad innkeeper said,
In the whole of this city
there's not one empty bed.
So they found them a place
where some animals lay
and he made her a bed
of his robe on the hay.
There her pain turned to gladness
and her fear turned to joy,
as, foretold by an angel,
she gave birth to a boy.
The deep lowing of cattle
made His first lullaby.
His first bed was a manger.
His first witness, the sky.
For directly above Him
there burst forth a great sight
that foreshadowed his mission
to bathe earth in His light.
But unlike His star
He'd chase darkness away
with His words, and the price
He was willing to pay.
Nearby awestricken shepards
by an angel were told,
This sign heralds your Savior.
Be ye sheep in His fold.
Then a choir of angels
made the hills softly ring
slowly swelling to thunder
as they hailed their young King.
And far away scholars,
seeing earth had been blessed,
dropped at once to their knees
then set out on a quest.
Although Christmas has changed much
as the years came and went
we must keep at its center
this most sacred event.
We must bear Him a gift
as was done from the start,
but the only gift worthy
is a change in our heart.