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We conclude" The Trimming of the Christian Tree 

Times a wasting
Thanksgiving’s growing near.
We’ll soon drag out the plastic tree.
The family will trim it here. 

Strips of Cloth
Clean swaddling cloths. And what of these?
To wrap the babe, from nights cool breeze.
To shield His gentle skin, so tender, young, and soft,
From all the scratchy harshness, of a lowly cattle trough.

But at His grave, revealed at mornings light.
Where He had laid, and folded there just right.
Those burial cloths, that offered fragrance flood.
As now those cloths, are stained with blood.

 Gifts 
Beneath our tree, gift packages, brightly wrapped, but later torn.
Tell the tale of “Why He’s Born”. A King with “Crown of Thorns”.
On this eve, 3 gifts were given, for these Magi had felt driven.
To find this tiny babe, to save mankind, had now been given.

It is said down through the years, Gold is reserved just for a King.
Frankincense did symbolize, a Holiness this King would bring.
The final gift of these, Will our hearts through ages bring.
It’s been said this precious Myrrh, Represents His suffering.

For later on, another gift, this tiny babe would offer.
A gift so freely given, what more can Christ then proffer?
His blood spilled, a life would end, Beaten, bruised, and torn.
This King of Kings & Lord of Lords, for all men’s sins had borne.

A Humble Stable Cave
There was no room, but offered, humble stables cave.
Then as fate, for His grave, another stranger gave.
A fitting place our Savior, could his bloodied head now lay,
If only there, for then a three day stay.

A Star         
Atop our tree, a star will shine. As one the Wise men followed.
To point the way to this new babe, born to die, it don’t seem fair.
It was in evening’s darkness, the lovely star shone bright.
But on the day of this Kings death, the day was turned to night.

Just as sure as that star shone, Believers know, we’re not alone.
Our Christ lives and waits for us, to share in His eternal home.
As we approach this busy time, some things no longer pleasin’.
Much to do, much to spend. Yer runnin’ for no good reason.

Step back and think it through. Is this Christ’s plan for you?
When He was born in Bethlehem. For this lost world to view?
If you’re trapped, and wearin’ thin, For no rhyme nor reason.
Remember now and years to come,
The Reason for the Season.

This was written by oldbuck to remind his 
Grand-kids of just that, The Reason for the Season.
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