1
He was born in poverty
two thousand years ago
his mum and dad were peasantry
who hadn’t any dough.
His cradle was a manger
with rough-cut wooden frame.
To me he was a stranger.
Yet, he knew my name!
2
Strangers came to seek him,
bearing gifts most rare.
Worshipping they greet him
in stable rude and bare.
A life of pain and glory,
they say that he will claim.
A strange and wondrous story.
Yet he knew my name!
3
He had to flee the country
to escape a mad king’s wrath.
Always going hungry,
on a beggars bowl of broth.
Hiding in the darkness,
afraid to show a flame
He was alone and friendless.
Yet he knew my name!
4
Home at last in Galillee
he learned the woodwork art.
Working with humility
on furniture, or cart.
To do the best with what he’d got
would always be his aim.
Perspiration was his lot.
Yet he knew my name!
5
In the Temple precinct,
with teachers of the law.
His knowledge and his insight
would fill them all with awe.
His parents might be worried
as back to town they came.
He only did his Father’s work.
Yet he knew my name!
6
Wandering in the wilderness,
fasting, thinking deep.
Pondering the godless
with little pause for sleep.
Perhaps he knew that people
would always be the same.
Praying for the feeble.
Yet he knew my name!
7
Telling people stories
as he wandered by the sea.
Of God and all his glories,
His love for you and me.
Assuaging every hunger
healing all the lame.
No thought of any danger.
Yet he knew my name.
8
Consorting with the riff-raff,
scorning those with pride.
He chose the cheating tipstaff
and called him to his side.
Content with tax collectors
and an ill-reputed dame.
He fuelled his detractors.
Yet he knew my name!
9
Riding to the city
with cheers and waving palms.
Yet still he showed some pity
to the beggars pleading alms.
Ask the money changers
if they thought that he was tame?
He just ignored the dangers.
Yet he knew my name!
10
He knew he would be taken.
He didn’t want to die.
Could he be mistaken?
He started asking why?
Yet all his friends were sleeping
to their own eternal shame.
His father’s plan he’s keeping
Yet he knew my name.
11
Betrayed within a garden
by a friend’s conceited kiss.
Healing those who guard him,
for he was born for this.
His friends have all deserted.
The High Priest wins his game.
He had him where he wanted.
Yet he knew my name!
12
They trumped up many charges
and they wouldn’t let him free
They ripped his back to ribbons
and nailed him to a tree.
He was pure and innocent
and yet he took the blame
for all our sins committed.
Yet he knew my name!
13
He rose again triumphant.
His spirit came at last
to stiffen all his followers
and sound the battle blast.
The fighting has been fierce and keen
The devil can still maim.
He will be victorious.
Yet he knows my name!
14
Throughout all the centuries
the war has ebbed and flowed.
The spirit of our God and King
has tramped our weary road.
I am just a private.
Not wishing pride or fame.
Failing all too often.
And yet he knows my name!
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