Oh Bethlehem of glorious fate,
You through love became so great,
For within your walls on stable bare
Mary lay her Babe in yester year.

The gusty winds of winter tide
She warded off as best she might:
With shards of cloth she swathed the Boy
Who brought Salvation to lack of joy.

In dark dull fields the light was lit
As shepherds, sheep got on their feet
To sing along to heavenly praise
And rush to see the King of Grace.

In foreign land some saw the star,
And left their own to travel far,
With gifts to honour and wisdom too,
They knelt and prayed the King of Truth.

And Mary watched her first born sleep
With Love, the wise, shepherds and sheep.
She got the mystery the angel voiced:
“Most glorious blessed, my Master’s choice.”

(c) Nyonglema