Where shepherds lately knelt and kept the angel’s word,
I come in half belief, a pilgrim strangely stirred;
But there is room and welcome there for me,
But there is room and welcome there for me.

In that unlikely place I find Him as they said:
Sweet new-born Babe, how frail!
And in a manger bed: a still small Voice to cry one day for me,
a still small Voice to cry one day for me.

How should I not have known Isaiah would be there, His prophecies fulfilled?
With pounding heart I stare: a Child, a Son, the Prince of Peace for me;
a Child, a Son, the Prince of Peace for me.

Can I, will I forget how Love was born and burned its way into my heart:
Unasked, unforced, unearned, to die, to live, and not alone for me?
to die, to live, and not alone for me?

– Jaroslav Vajda