Holy Mystery in the Manger

The maker of the stars above, laid down His crown of endless love.

No throne of gold, no royal sound. Just hay and peace on humble

ground. The hands that shaped the sea and sky were wrapped in

cloth so small, so shy. The breath that gave all life its start

now softly beats a human heart. Oh, wonder, oh holy mystery,

the Lord of all in frailty. The word made flesh, so near,

so mild. The king of Heaven, a newborn child. The

light that called the dawn to rise now sleeps beneath the starlit skies.