Through the ages, the world waited,
Not knowing what was to come.
Springtime, harvest, heat and snow,
Looking unknowing for the One.
Songs and psalms and verses
Proclaimed his coming days,
Though few could understand them,
Or see his coming ways.
In slavery, they raised their heads,
In exile, in fear, oppressed,
Seeking the sword that would free them,
And bring them peace and rest.
But instead there came a child,
Born into a manger stall.
Shepherds came to worship
The babe who was Lord of All.
Who can understand it all?
A poor child, not a king.
What difference could this child make?
But to him the world still sings.