Long Ago, Long Ago
Fingered by the searching cold,
Cutting wind on cruel snow,
Born not far from death was he
Long ago, long ago.
Threatened by King Herod's wrath,
Lashing out to find a foe,
Fled, not far from death was he
Long ago, long ago.
Strange the story that was told
Of the desert and the snow,
Poor, outcast and suffering
Long ago, long ago.
Were he born in luxury,
Servants passing to and fro,
Could he know my suffering
And how hunger lays me low?
He is mine for what he bore
Long ago, long ago.