Christ | Christmas | Consecration | Discipleship | Poetry | Worldliness

Tis the day after Christmas, and out in the den/Daddy is watching pro football again./The children are throwing and breaking their toys,/And Mother is up to her ears in the noise./The melting snow drips through a hole in the roof./Boy, one of those reindeer sure had a sharp hoof./Ribbons and wrappings are spread all around — /We hope, when they’re cleared, our lost child will be found!
Santa long since disappeared in the fog./The turkey is tasteless, the eggnog won’t nog./The holly and ivy, the tinsel and lights/No longer bring warm glows on cold, darkened nights./Children who last week were helpful and sweet/Have mouths that are sassy and rooms less than neat./Those people with faces that smiled forth like elves/Are now once again just their grouchy old selves./Then carols of joy and hope filled the air,/But now they are muffled by hard rock’s loud blare./The cold winds, which now make Aunt Josephine freeze,/Were not even noticed on Yule…

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