14 thoughts on “The Mass of Christ Poem by G.L. Swanepoel

    1. That’s odd…I haven’t changed anything…I see what it is-you can’t reblog pages. Just go to You Tube and copy the code from there and paste into a post at your place.

      Have a blessed day, Elizabeth!~

      Liked by 2 people

  1. Twas the night before Christmas; and strange as it seems
    I wasn’t indulging in covetous dreams;
    But reading my Bible, I searched for a clue
    Why Christians take part in this holiday too.
    I plainly could see that it carried His name,
    But the spirit behind it just wasn’t the same.
    The songs spoke of wise men, of virgin and child,
    Of shepherds, of God, and all men reconciled;
    But nothing was said of the blood and the cross;
    Of repentance, and faith, and of counting the cost.
    They sang of the babe, His miraculous birth,
    But not of the day when He’ll judge the whole earth.
    My Bible said nothing of Santa, or toys,
    Of Frosty the Snowman, and small drummer boys.
    A reference to Rudolph not once did I see.
    But it seems Jeremiah did mention the tree.
    I sat and I pondered this curious matter,
    When out on the roof there arose such a clatter
    That I knew in a moment he soon would be here;
    So I prayed in the Spirit and stood without fear.
    He slipped down the chimney, quick as a flash,
    And stepped from the fireplace all covered with ash.
    There stood St. Nick with his bag and his beard,
    He looked at the Bible I held, and he sneered,
    “Another fanatical Christian, I see;
    No stockings; no holly, no pictures of me.”
    I asked him if Jesus was God in the flesh,
    He said that was something he couldn’t confess.
    He said, “I am Santa, I come from afar.”
    I stood in the truth – “The Devil you are.
    That suit and that beard doesn’t fool me one bit.
    Your jolly deception is straight from the pit.
    Beneath all your Ho Ho Ho’s Lucifer lurks;
    With your all-seeing eyes and your gospel of works
    Like a thief in the night you impersonate Christ,
    Returning to judge the naughty and nice.”
    “So call Christmas pagan,” he said, “That’s O.K.
    ‘Cause that’s what my sons at the Watchtower say.
    You’ll look like a pagan or like a deceiver,
    But none will suspect you to be a believer.”
    I said, “I don’t care what your servants will say,
    My loyalty lies with the Ancient of Days.
    No matter how many abuses are hurled,
    My Bible says be not conformed to this world.
    You have no power, and no part of me,
    So I stand on God’s Word, and command you to flee.”
    He squealed like a pig that was stuck with a knife.
    He ran to the chimney and climbed for his life.
    And I heard him exclaim, as he drove out of sight,
    “Merry Xmas to all, and a long, dark night.”

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