Jerusalem
Christmas is more than the end of the year
More than a time
for presents and cheer
More than a time for
happy meetings
More than a time for exchanging
greetings
More than the tinsel
that hangs on the tree
More than the baubles
and glitter we see
More than a time for
mere happiness
More than small words we
can ever express
Christmas is the one
day we find it is good
To live the way
we always should.
Shall we recognise Him when he comes again,
Or will the countenance divine be racked
with pain
For the evil born of men
Which He'll suffer
now as then,
Or will the memories from the past ring out
in vain?
Will His coming cleanse the terror in our
souls,
From then guilt and horror history unfolds,
Or will it send us reeling,
With intensity of feeling,
For the victims of our countless crimes
untold?
Life is a book in chapters three;
The past, the present, the yet-to-be.
The past has gone— it could not stay—
It's in your dreams of yesterday,
Remembered sometimes for its sadness
But also for its joy and gladness.
Live for the present, live for today,
So quickly does it pass away.
Help one another along life's path,
Cheer them up and make them laugh.
For the past it soon will be,
So live it now— its yours you see.
But what about the yet-to-be?
It's locked away, God holds the key.
Kind hearts are the garden
Kind thoughts are the roots
Kind words are the blossoms
Kind deeds are the fruit
Should auld acquaintance be forgot
And never brought to mind.
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And auld lang syne?
For auld lang syne, my dear,
For auld lang syne,
We'll tak' a cup of kindness yet,
For auld lang syne.
© Fulwood Methodist Church
15:15:20 Wednesday, 26 October 2005
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