Strange Complicity
Sweet infant sleep to shun the cold,
To spare you from the soldier's tread.
I'll sing a lullaby of old
And watch you in your humble bed:
How prophets with their blazing eyes
And crazy ways foretold your birth,
Of how through me you would be born
The King of Heaven to save the earth.
I wonder if I would have given
Consent to the bright angel's plea
If I had known we would be here
In exile, cold and poverty.
But I will sing the lullaby
Born out of strange complicity,
That you are what they say you are,
The Messiah of all; and me.