A Feeding Trough

 

 

Just a feeding trough,

Nothing glamourous

And in my immediate environ

The smell is obnoxious.

 

I attract animals

Only by what’s in me

And if you said their feed,

I’d say exactly.

 

You could well imagine

My great surprise

When I was the one chosen

To hold a child.

 

A special child

I soon came to find out,

As the Saviour of the world

I had no doubt.

 

 

I felt humbled,

As I was only a manger

And they selected lowly me

To bear the Saviour.

 

 

Crudely fashioned

Just like that cruel cross

That he would be crucified on

To pay sin’s cost.

 

Sin’s wages, his death,

Man’s redemption

Through Jesus’ death, burial

And resurrection.

 

 

And I, his birth,

The cross, his death,

Both of us playing a part

In God’s rest.

 

A rest for all

That trust in God

For their eternal salvation

After Adam’s fall.

 

 

I was transformed

Just like the cross

And elevated to much more

Than a feeding trough.

 

Most had their day

And so did I

On that first Christmas Day

When God drew nigh.

 

Stewart Russell © December 11, 2024