Who was this One born meek and mild,
this infant, Mary’s baby boy child ?
Why was He born in dark of night
beneath the star of brightest light ?
Countless in number the angels sang,
above the hillsides their praises rang.
Below in the fields were those thought least:
frightened shepherds whose wonder never ceased.
Who was this One of whom angels did sing:
the question of those with little to bring.
Even those stabled there knew that this night
because of Him, all would be set right.
Heralded in time by men from the east,
they came with great treasures upon their beasts.
Bowing low before the King of Kings,
they paid Him homage with finer things.
But what was so special about that night,
that which puts Christmas in it’s truest light ?
O, who is this One of majestic worth,
This One with rightful claim to the earth ?