So, This Is Christmas

I Slip my hand into yours and let me walk with you. Let the vision of Christmas whisper across your face. Let me see the last minute presents wrapped around the Christmas tree and watch the children laying in bed, wishing that Christmas morning had already won the race over sleep. When packages and torn paper shall lay across a floor full of excited shrieks and hugs and kisses. Of Christmas dinners around a table full of toasts and paper hats, and belts let out a notch or two. And watch the after dinner walks and kids racing new bikes through the snow while the old folks snooze, waking only for the Queen's speech and to check what's been laid out for tea. II Now, slip your hand in Mine and walk with Me. Let the vision of Christmas show its tally across My face. Let My eye be your guide to a world I was born to die for on this day. To show you man's inhumanities. See the beggar sitting in the snow, whose face hangs with cold like the pall to a coffin. The infant, trembling in his cot, his body beaten and his mouth unfed. His days short lived and unforgiving. Watch how the poor get tormented with hand-me-down food banks and coloured promises. See a blind - eyed, ear-covered close - mouthed divided mankind watch the poor go hungry, the aggressor get angry and the perpetrator remain blameless. All on this day of days.