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A Poem of Christmas

A baby’s cry pierces the dark night

Breath begins

 

A hanging man cries, “It is finished!”

Breathing ends

 

A precious child, sinless and pure

Wrapped in clothes against the cold

 

He who knew no sin, becomes sin

That he might be our righteousness

 

A Christmas babe

A dying man

 

As dark night follows the bright day

So Love bids one follow the other

 

But Sunday morning comes

And there is hope.

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