Boxes filled with Christmas things, Now the question I must dare,
Ribbons, bells, and package strings, The fate of snowman must I share?
Boxes, bows, and strands of lights, To wait alone in my room?
Garland, candles, packed in tight. Without a plan in utter gloom?
Put away, neatly with care, I think I have nothing to give,
Fitting snug under the stair. No reason really, for to live.
So next year for Christmas day, But then I'm told that God loves me,
Out they'll come to be displayed. Enough to die upon a tree.
But for now the snowman's fate, He knows the pain that's deep inside,
Stuffily stored, a year to wait. And nothing from Him can I hide.
He cannot sing his Christmas song. He wants for me a brand new start.
He'll have to wait so very long, He tells me I'm His work of art.
In a bag next to the tree, And now I venture from this place,
The branches tickling his knee. To share the story of His grace.
He cannot bend, or scratch his nose, I do not have to wait on shelf,
In one position he must pose. To fill with Him, be rid of self.
His cheeks of cherry red not blinking. All the time, He holds me dear,
In deep, deep sleep he now is sinking. Not just at Christmas time of year.
Dreaming of this time next year, A perfect plan He has designed,
When on the hearth he will appear. Because true love in Him I find.
He knows the laughter he will bring, I sing a song of praise to one,
And once again, his song to sing. The Father, Holy Ghost, and Son.
He knows he gives a gift of joy, Proclaim His love with shouts of joy,
To man and woman, girl and boy. To man and woman, girl and boy.
To man and woman, girl and boy. To man and woman, girl and boy.
So with a smile upon his face, So with a smile upon my face,
He sleeps content to know the grace, I'll be content to know His grace.
He has to give in time and space. That brought me to His holy place.
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