'Twas the night before Christmas, When all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
Preparations had been made for the day just ahead;
The Scriptures were read, all the prayers had been said.
The children were glad they had done all their chores;
Polishing chairs and scrubbing the floors.
Their minds were relaxed, they thought of one thing,
The program for Christmas; the carols they would sing.
...
While many were thinking of Santa and toys,
And dolls for the girls and games for the boys;
The thoughts of these youngsters were far, far away
To a time full of darkness and gloom and dismay.
The world anxiously waited for a Savior to come;
Jesus, God's Son, from His heavenly home.
Their hearts beat with joy from the story they'd heard,
The Messiah would come, it is told in God's word.
...
How the promise was made: it was kept that we know,
For our sins, which were many, can be washed white as snow.
The thought of a man with His whiskers so long,
(Not the one people sing of in the Santa Claus song).
But the One Who was born in a manger so low
Who had come down from Heaven to the earth far below.
...
This man did not carry a sack on His back
With presents and candy and things like hardtack;
The burden HE carried was heavier by far,
Then any sled was, or dolly or wagon or car.
His face was not happy or jolly or droll:
It was filled with concern for min and your soul.
The garments He wore were not tarnished with soot,
The red He had on was the blood from His foot,
And His hands which were nailed to the rugged old tree;
He carried the load just for you and for me.
...
All that He left were the stains on the cross,
To show us our gain--and Heaven's great loss.
He filled no one's stocking--and yet, I can say
He filled mine with me, to witness today
That some of the burden He carried for me,
He cleansed me from sin and now I am free.
The man with the whiskers that people now praise
Is absent three hundred and sixty-four days.
Yes, I am sure that the thought that they had
Would not fade after Christmas, or die like a fad.
...
The man that they thought of came not once a year;
He could live in their hearts, and keep them from fear.
They thought how He, too, went away in the sky
But the difference was, He would come by and by.
He was not carried b reindeer and sleigh,
But angels escorted our Savior away.
Keep the spirit of Christmas and remember, I pray,
The real Man of Christmas, our Savior today.
...
by a dear friend, Doris Toppen
Not a creature was praying, not one in the house,
Their Bibles were lain on the shelf without care
In hopes that Jesus would not come there..
.
The children were dressing to crawl into bed,
Not once ever kneeling or bowing a head.
And Mom in her rocker with baby on her lap
Was watching the Late Show while I took a nap.
.
When out of the East there arose such a clatter,
I sprang to my feet to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash!
.
When what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But angels proclaiming that Jesus was here.
With a light like the sun sending forth a bright ray,
I knew in a moment this must be THE DAY!
.
The light of His face made me cover my head,
It was Jesus! Returning just like He had said.
And though I possessed worldly wisdom and wealth,
I cried when I saw Him in spite of myself.
.
In the Book of Life which He held in His hand,
Was written the name of every saved man.
He spoke not a word as He searched for my name;
When He said, "It's not here," my head hung in shame.
.
The people whose names had been written with love,
He gathered to take to His Father above.
With those who were ready He rose without a sound,
While all the rest were left standing around.
.
I fell to my knees, but it was too late;
I had waited too long and thus sealed my fate.
I stood and I cried as they rose out of sight,
Oh, if only I had been ready tonight.
.
In the words of this poem the meaning is clear;
The coming of Jesus is drawing near.
There's only one life and when comes the last call,
We'll find that the Bible was true after all!
. . .
Author Unknown