It’s Christmas day and there’s an empty chair
Where a loved one sat so very near.
There are presents underneath the tree
That little eyes will never see.
The candle’s flame flickers low,
The lights have seemed to lose their glow,
And even if there were snow
We would still feel Death’s ruthless blow.
Where, in this world of pain,
Do we turn for hope again?
Where, o where? We ask with fear
Where was God? Was He near?
Did He hold fast the children’s hands?
Did He help the teachers to stand?
When evil carried out its plan
Did God ever hear the cry of man?
These queries I held within
With my anger sinking in.
But then I turned, looked and saw
A Baby laying in the straw.
A Babe that would soon know pain.
He would grow up, just to be slain.
In the midst of all that’s inhumane
He would bring hope to us like rain.
So yes, it is now the Christmas date
And yes, it is hard to celebrate
With empty chairs, and presents unwrapped
But there is a well of joy that is untapped
It is a joy for every Season
A joy that defies all reason
A joy that refuses to lessen
Even in the face of oppression
It is the joy of life after death
A joy that extends beyond the last breath
Its source is found inside a vacant tomb
Where death did die, and hope now looms
The resurrection is the promise of the King
It is water gushing from the driest spring
It is the toll of a bell that once did not ring
That now brings hope to all who forgot how to sing