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See how this infant boy
lifted himself down
into his humble creche
and laid his tender glove of skin
against splintered wood—
found refuge in a rack
that chilly dawn,
in sweetest silage,
those shriven stalks.
This outcast king lifted
himself high upon his savage cross,
extended the regal banner
of his bones, draping himself
upon his throne his battered feet,
his wounded hands not fastened
there by nails but sewn
by the strictest thorn of love.
A prayer on Christ the King Sunday
Lord God, ruler of all creation,
you sent Jesus to be our Sovereign and Saviour,
bringing power for the powerless,
salvation for the lost and testifying to the truth : that you alone
are the Lord of life.
Help us always to listen to his voice
so that we may proclaim his realm
of justice, peace and endless love,
through Christ, who reigns forever. Amen