No where to lay your head,

and a manger for a bed.

died for sins and flaws,

the world runs to Santa Clause.

You gloriously, enter our space.

soldiers spit in your face.

His ways higher than mine,

not my will but thine.

What manner of man is this?

That loves those of a betraying kiss.

Greater love lays down His life,

to free this man of sin and strife.

This joy to the world, do not refuse.

Those that have ears, hear the Good news!