Foxes have their Holes,
The Birds all have their Nest.
The Son of God, the poor Man, here on EArth.
Left riches far behind,
So others could be Blessed,
Amid the Cattle lowing at His Birth.
But He had no place to lay His Head.
Others rested in their snow white beds.
In the NIght He'd often roam,
With a Heart that longs for Home.
But He had no place to lay His Head.
Weary, Worn, and Sad
He journeyed toward the Cross,
And many times He wept along the Way.
He sympathized with Friends,
And saw the Sinner lost,
And always turned their darkness
Into Day.
But He had no place to lay His Head.
He is despised and rejected of men, a man of sorrows and aquainted with grief: and we hid as it were our faces from Him, he was dspised, and we esteemed Him not.
But He was wounded for our transgressions, He was bruised for our iniquities, the chastisement of our peace was upon Him, and by His Stipes we are Healed.
Is. 53:3&5.
That we know Him.