O come all ye faithful
(and not so faithful):
Greet him this happy morning
as all glory is given,
as it spills from his flesh
grown from haloed babe to man of sorrows,
pierced and crushed and beaten and suffocated,
joyful and triumphant!

Don’t look away.

Come and behold him
who was born the King of Angels,
King of Heaven and Earth,
King of the Jews!
Once honored with gold, frankincense and myrrh;
Now crowned with thorns, anointed in spit and sour wine.

The suffering servant
raised up from mother’s breast, from cradling manger
to be swaddled in a seamless robe and
stripped naked as the day he was born.
The mocked messiah
raised up from bastard child to Son of God
to be brought low so you could be lifted high and
see the face of your true Father—

So you could be passed over.

Sing choirs of angels!
Sing in exultation!
Harmonize your song to the lamentations of his death
with the same jubilation as the celebration of his birth.

For if he was worthy of our worship from the time he drew his first breath,
how much more as he takes his last?

Come let us adore him,
With arms splayed wide and head bowed;
Come let us adore him,
With blood pumping and short of breath;
O come let us adore him:
Christ, the Lord.