This was not the plan
Not here, not in this humble shed
That somehow seems so perfect now
A sweet celestial irony

Who were those people here?
How could they know the time the place?
To seek a child who no one knows
And kneel before his lowly bed

And such a child as this
Whose eyes it seems I've always known
A smile that tells me everything
Without the need to tell me why

My love says not a word
Too busy living in his head
Anxious, bewildered and afraid
Yet proud and steadfast, come what may

Whatever lies ahead
The hand of God must have its way
This story is so wonderful
That it can only end in tears