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Sketch  of  Love
by Elayne

If I were an artist with feathery pen,
A picture for you I'd draw.

But alas, I have only words to describe
 The vision that I saw.

A child was born in Bethlehem
A child of mother poor;

Yet the Father of this babe so small
Was a King, my King and your'.

He came to live so that we might know
Of his Father's love for us;

And he died a death of cruel hate,
Condemned by man's eternal lust.

This child who came to Bethlehem,
Upon a winter's night,

Taught all good men the difference
Between their wrongs and right.

Now let us kneel on bended knees,
In the presence of our King;

And look to him with reverent eyes,
While herald angels sing.