He came to earth,
On a winter’s day,
In a manger,
He did lay.

He grew up fast,
He grew up strong, 
In his father ways, 
He knew right from wrong.

Then in mid-life,
A calling God choose,
Him and twelve men,
Wearing sandals and robes.

He preached to all,
Healing as he went,
Never stopping,
For this is why he was sent,

Some were happy,
Some were mad, 
He feed them fishes,
In rags they were clad.

There were those,
Who hated him,
In those days,
Their mood grew grim.

They planned and plotted,
For his death,
Meekness and kindness,
Is how they were met,

They nailed him tight,
To a cross,
He gave his life, 
All seemed lost.

Then on the third day,
After the Sabbath,
He rose and lived,
Love is his habit.

He ascended to,
His father in heaven,
At the Fathers right hand, 
The bread that is leavend.

He sends to us,
His holy sprit,
Filled with Love,
For those who hear it,

He was born,
On a winter’s day,
In our hearts,
He will always stay.