We Like to Think

We like to think of kings And crowding animals And angels, Of shepherds on a hill, A star, And lambs and gentleness. But when it comes to Calvary That’s much too sharp And close-aimed For the heart side-tracked by sin. A soft-cradled baby Doesn’t touch the soul Like a man dying on a cross. A baby’s comfortable and easy In the bleak mid-winter. Sad if we too should say, The Baby’s OK, But not the Man!