Dustin Kensrue
Dustin Kensrue
Dustin Kensrue
Dustin Kensrue
Dustin Kensrue
Dustin Kensrue
Dustin Kensrue
Dustin Kensrue
Dustin Kensrue
Dustin Kensrue
Dustin Kensrue
Dustin Kensrue
The horse's hay beneath his head
Our Lord was born to a manger bed
That all whose wells run dry could drink of his supply
To keep him warm, the sheep drew near
So grateful for His coming here
Come with news of grace, come to take my place
The donkey whispered in his ear
"Child, in thirty-some-odd years
You'll ride someone who looks like me untriumphantly"
The cardinals warbled a joyful song
He'll make right what man made wrong
Bringing low the hills that the valleys might be filled
Then, "Child," asked the birds
"Well, aren't they lovely words we sing?"
The tiny baby laid there without saying anything
At a distance stood a mangy goat
With the crooked teeth and a matted coat
Weary eyes and worn, chipped and twisted horns
Thinking maybe I'll make friends someday
With the cows and the hens in the rambouillet
But for now I'll keep away, I've got nothing smart to say
There's a sign on the barn in the cabbage town:
"When the rain picks up and the sun goes down
Sinners come inside, with no money come and buy"
No clever talk, nor a gift to bring
Requires our lowly, lovely King
Come now empty-handed, you don't need anything
And the night was cool and clear as glass
With the sneaking snake in the garden grass
Deep cried out to deep, the disciples fast asleep
And the snake perked up when he heard You ask
If you're willing that this cup might pass
We could find our way back home, maybe start a family all our own
But does not the Father guide the Son?
Not My will, but Yours be done
What else here to do? What else me but You?
And the snake who'd held the world
A stick, a carrot and a string
Was crushed beneath the foot of Your not wanting anything