Bethlehem is deserted Lord.
The shepherds have gone.
Maybe this year the kings did not make it.
I kneel with the women.

Too much barbed wire at the inn,
Guards on the offensive,
Sounds of uproar and alarm at the wall.
I kneel with the women:

For peace Lord in our troubled land,
For holding hands around the crib,
For kneeling in love by the baby.

It is still cold outside the stable
But here, Lord, we are with You:
Christ child in our arms.