Here is Your Cradle

Lord, I know the Christmas story,
I’ve heard it many times:
how humbly you began your life
in human flesh like mine,
how lowly was your family
how rude your stable bed,
how beasts of burden gathered round
your small straw-haloed head;

And Joseph must have gazed on proudly
and stroked your wispy hair,
as angels broke the news nearby
while dancing in the air.
And Mary sang you lullabies
and kept you safe and warm
til shepherds came and bowed before
your ancient infant form;

I know the story, Lord, and yet
I know you’ve heard it, too.
I know you won’t be satisfied until
it becomes my story, too.
And so I’m glad it shows me there’s
no place too rude for you;
It’s not much I have to give
But all I have will have to do:

Here is your cradle,
here is your manger,
here is your bed of straw.

Make me your cradle,
My heart your manger,
My life your bed of straw.