High and Lifted Up

I found this part of a wonderful poem today on Facebook.  I thought I would share it with you. “God, the God I love and worship, reigns in sorrow on the Tree, Broken, bleeding, but unconquered, very God of God to me. All that showy pomp of splendour, all that sheen of angel wings, Was but borrowed from the baubles that surround our earthly kings. Thought is weak and speech is weaker, and the vision that He sees Strikes with dumbness any preacher, brings him humbly to his knees. But the word that Thou hast spoken borrows nought from kings and thrones, Vain to rack a royal palace for the echo of Thy tones. In a manger, in a cottage, in an honest workman’s shed, In the homes of humble peasants, and the simple lives they led, In the life of one an outcast and a vagabond on earth, In