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