The stars shone down on a woman
As she wearily marched in the way,
A baby inside her weighted her steps
When she went to lie down by the hay.
The pain of the labor was starting
As the world started grinding around
While the stars, free from pain, watched the groaning old earth
As they blinked in their unshaken crowns.
Where was heaven when our world was failing?
– – –
He was born in the shadow of death.
While the sick were alone, he suffered – and mourned –
And stood with them till his final breath.
The host that gives life to the spirit
Was placed where the cattle had fed,
And the crown of the stars, cast aside for our thorns,
Was reforged when the heavens had bled.
So the shelter where Mary had rested
Saw the birth of the voyaging king,
And the word that she carried for all humankind
Carried us to our home, where she sings –
To our home by the sheep and the shepherd,
Where the stars met the dust at the brink,
Where we caught our first taste of a miracle’s wine
And God took up the hell that we drink.