How is it that with Christmastime I still am filled with joy,
Not like the joy that children feel, each girl and every boy...
Anticipating presents, seeing Dad put up the lights,
But rather like the shepherds felt, that joyous night of nights.
How is it after all these years I still think of that Babe
Born to a teenage mother in surroundings somewhat grave...
But chosen so the world would see that He was one of them,
A human child, God's sacrifice, born there in Bethlehem.
How is it that this ancient tale is somehow always new
And yet I hear it every year, just listen, so do you?
For it's the promise kept by God, the Savior, Jesus Christ,
Sent long ago to save us all, God's Son, who'd pay the price.
How is it that each Christmas brings that cherished memory back
And I can feel the Father's hand and blessing in all that?
And yet I feel this world of ours has chosen to forget.
The promise of the Christmas Child, that child is under threat.
We cannot let His birth be overshadowed by such trappings
As tinsel, trees, and shopping sprees, and brightly colored wrappings.
So share with me that memory, what every Christmas brings,
The joy of knowing Christ was born, your Savior, King of kings.
For if you do, I'm telling you, your heart will overflow.
God's love for you, its depth and breadth, you will begin to know...
And then, with every Christmas, you'll anticipate His birth,
The story won't be old but new, that Babe not last, but FIRST!