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.

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