Baby Son-John Mark McMillan

 

We thought you’d come with a crown of gold
A string of pearls and a cashmere robe
We thought you’d clinch an iron fist
And rain like fire on the politics
But without a sword, no armored guard
But common born in mother’s arms
The government now rests upon
The shoulders of this baby son
Have you no room inside your heart
The inn is full, the out is dark
Upon profane shines sacred sun
Not ashamed to be one of us
Without a sword, no armored guard
But common born in mother’s arms
The government now rests upon
The shoulders of this baby son
Gloria, Allelu
Christ the Lord
We’ve longed for you