The wise men took Him gold and myrrh,
The drummer boy took him beats,
In Paraguay, it's pakova,
They bring to Him as treats.
I, with empty hands and full heart,
Have little to give a King,
How could I match the gift He gave,
When He took away death's sting,
His birth, marked by a bright new star,
Brought hope to a darkened night,
His death, foretold by prophets of old,
Saved us from our sinner's plight.
I could give Him riches, wealth, or worlds
Could gift Him all I have to give
But I think His Christmas wish for me is that
A life like His I'll live.
After all, His most precious gift,
Is used most when I repent
His mercy makes me Homeward-bound
His love, so heaven sent
Beneath the boughs of my Christmas tree,
Sits no gift that bears His name,
But in my chest, a broken heart reads,
From Jesus: I took away your blame.
Merry Christmas
