By Madeleine L’Engle
He did not wait till the world was ready,
till men and nations were at peace.
He came when the Heavens were unsteady,
and prisoners cried out for release.
He came when the need was deep and great.
He dined with sinners in all their grime,
turned water into wine.
In joy he came to a tarnished world of sin and doubt.
To a world like ours, of anguished shame
he came, and his Light would not go out.
to heal its tangles, shield its scorn.
In the mystery of the Word made Flesh
the Maker of the stars was born.