I walked to the sacred desk
It was dingy and squeaky and small
The path so dimly lit
Perhaps I would fall
Look at that crude crowd
They know nothing of weight that is sublime
They only know the weight of toil
Their calloused hands cannot hold what is fine
All those years of seminary study for this?
All those years of preparing for homilies!
Words worthy to shine forth to the lions of the land
Fly past those princely ears to their fur full of these fleas
What a waste of my calling and gifts!
These buffoons do not know what metaphysical means
Much less reason in metaphysical thought
How can I tell them of motes when they know nothing of beams?
I walked to the sacred desk
Dingy and squeaky and small
My path so dimly lit
Surely I might fall
Open the book for this crude crowd!
Waste the sublime idea of the incarnation!
Struggle to describe the Eternal Word as the light of men!
Surely they cannot grasp the expression of God in human encapsulation!
All the years of divine preparation for His birth
All the prophecies fulfilled at the manger
The fleeing forth to the land of Egypt
When the Christ child was taken from danger
But He surely cried with colic on that road to Egypt
The One of whom the choir now sings
An odd way for deity to travel
When He could have commanded to fly on angelic wings
I stumbled to the sacred desk
My soul dingy, my words tinkling, my mind small
My prideful eyes were blinded
Like Lucifer, it caused me to fall
I stood at the sacred desk
With tears in my eyes I read
Let this same mind be in you
That was in Christ’s head
Though gloriously exalted in Heaven
He humbled himself to be a man