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!
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