Our newborn King lies in a manger bed
Swaddled in clothes, by his mother lain,
Soon to wear a crown of thorns upon his head.
A jealous king desired to see him dead,
Command that every child his age was slain,
Our newborn King lies in a manger bed.
Shepherds in fields heard what the angels said,
Worship for their King they could not contain,
Soon to wear a crown of thorns upon his head.
Wise kings in the East by a star were led,
But in Bethlehem they would not remain,
Our newborn King lies in a manger bed.
His mother’s heart will ponder this instead:
Who is my son to cause kings to proclaim?
Soon to wear a crown of thorns upon his head.
Her babe will grow and be pierced, bleeding red,
To wash away each sin, blemish, and stain.
Our newborn King lies in a manger bed,
Soon to wear a crown of thorns upon his head.
The above is a poem I wrote that connects Christmas to Easter. It is a villanelle (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Villanelle) and is something I reflect on this Holy Week.
-Janna Wiebe
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