One more Christmas post

by thoughtfulconservative

Oh, no, I’m not done yet!

I’ll post two songs I got reacquainted with over the weekend by Kirk Talley.

I Can Still Celebrate Christmas

The lights are unplugged
The candles snuffed out
The tree’s lying out in the street
The mistletoe’s gone
But the memory lives on
Like the rush of tiny little feet
The hustle, the bustle
The long, long, long checkout lines
Won’t be seen ’til Christmas next year
But the man who understands the real reason why we celebrate
Why, he can have twelve months full of cheer

Chorus;
I can still celebrate Christmas
For the Light of the World is the light of my life
I can still celebrate Christmas
It’s much more to me
than lights on a tree
It’s a gift that gives life to me

So, turn on your lights
Put a wreath on your door
Show the world that you can sing too
Try Joy to the World in June of July
Ask a friend to sing along, too
Come on and ring the bells loud
Stand up and be proud
Tell the world the truth that you know
That the little tiny boy
Brought happiness and joy
More than gifts tied with ribbons and bows.

Chorus then:
Yes, it’s much more to me than lights and a tree
It’s more than the gifts that are given to me
It’s more than the lovely shirt Mama gave me
It’s a gift that gives life to me
Yes, it’s a gift that gives life to me.

And because this Christmas my thoughts have been on Mary, here’s Still Her Little Child

(lyrics, interesting enough, written by Ray Boltz)

When she laid him in a manger
He was still her little child
In a city filled with strangers
He was still her little child
Though the inn was full
And the night was cold
She held Him close and smiled
When she laid Him in a manger
He was still her little child

When the angels called Him Savior
He was still her little child
When the wise men gave Him treasures
He was still her little child
When the shepherds bowed before Him
A star shone all the while
When the angels called Him Savior
He was still her little child

When He grew in strength and wisdom
He was still her little child
When He spoke the people listened
He was still her little child
When He healed the lame and dying
They would follow Him for miles
And when he grew
In strength and wisdom
He was still her little child

When the people turned against Him
He was still her little child
When they shouted crucify Him
He was still her little child
And when they nailed Him
To a wooden cross
Then we were reconciled
When she held His broken body
He was still her little child
He was still her little child

Ah, Christmas.

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