Our place is with lambs and lions,
Paradox and peace,
Written into the world by your very Word.
This mountain of the Lord,
Where virgins give birth,
Where wise men bow to infants
and tyrants are foiled by them,
Where kings sleep in barns.
Stained and broken,
The refuse of barn floors and feed troughs
(Straw and dung)
Exalted to royalty by spilt blood and new birth,
Made holy, by the Infant lowly.
We are refuse made to rest,
As did your downy head on manger-breast.
(inspired by lesson 4: Isaiah 11:1-3a, 4a, 6-9)