Twas the Night Before Christmas Eve

‘Twas the eve before Christmas
And all through the church,
One creature was stirring,
he was doing research.

The hymnals were placed in the pews with such care.
The members were sitting in meek, loving prayer.
The children were nestled all snug in their class,
in hopes that King Jesus would come back at long last.

And Pastor in his suit and his wife in her dress,
had just settled down for a sermon to bless.
When out in the skies there arose such a shout,
they sprang from the pews to see what’s about.

Away to the window they flew like a flash,
tore open the shutters threw upward the sash.
The candlelight glowed on the lawn just outside,
the church was dressed up as Savior’s Saint Bride.

When what to their wondering eyes did appear!
Jesus as Lord, looking severe.
What a magnificent King! So bright and so great!
We knew in a trice it’s our Holy Soul Mate!

On white horse more rapid than Time he descends,
He shouted and He called and His hand he extend.
Now Pastor! Now Wife! Now Singers! Now Deacons!
Now members! Now children! Now Bride as My Beacon!

Alleluia! Salvation! And glory and power!
Belong to the Lord this absolute hour.
“Now come up here, come up here” they all heard Him say.
So shouteth the Lord on this last timeless day.

As bright sparks before the fireside do fly,
when they meet with an air current do rise to the sky.
So up to the church top their coursers they flew.
With hearts full of joy, the clouds they sliced through.

On that night before Christmas? And all through the church?
The creature who was stirring, who was doing research?
He was dressed all in black, from his head to his foot.
And his soul was all tarnished with ashes and soot.

A bundle of troubles he had flung on his back.
He looked like a robber just closing his sack.
And the beard of his chin was dark as abyss,
And his hands held multitudes of cyst upon cyst.

And the smoke from his ears, his head like a wreath,
Encircled the hatred pulsing hot underneath.
Demon knew that for them was rapture and glory.
The Bible, for sure, was no trumped up old story!

Their souls he no longer had chance to reshape.
The end, it drew near! All he could do now was gape.

But back to the bride, their Blessed estate,
They who trod paths that were narrow and straight.
Mercifully saved, those who sup with the Lamb-
The Alpha-Omega, the Eternal I Am.

Away they all flew like the down of a thistle
They ascended to glory like fastest of missiles.
But he heard them exclaim as they rose out of sight,

Hallelujah to God and His Holy Might!


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