"A Star shall rise from Judah,
a prince for all the earth!"
Here come the Persian learned men
the magi with the ink and pen,
to chronicle his birth!
They bring him gold to melt a crown
and at his feet the wise bow down;
the end to all their search!
A crown He wore, but not of gold
for thorns infest the ground.
They claw and stab and prick and tear
they give Him a crimson robe to wear
for His red and purple back.
The crowds that laid their waving fronds
now spit upon His face,
He has failed to bring our promised land
and in His outstretched bleeding hand
the iron no scepter makes.
To such cosmic grandeur, vast divine
what treasures could entice?
What madness could infect a god
to come down and treat with sweat and sod,
for what sight could such entice?
We see a babe in a manger laid,
a carpenter, a comely maid;
He sees your face in paradise.
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