If I
If I were a snowflake now,
I would float down to make the prettiest scene for him;
And if I were the tiniest star
I would shine with all my strength, never to grow dim;
If I were a clumsy ox
My sweet, warm breath would blunt the sharpest chill,
And if I were the softest breeze
Even at the first hint of a lullaby I would keep still.
And if I am fretful now
I will try to imagine the smile on his mother's face
And if I am pleased with myself
I will think of her son's life and death that sends out his grace:
If I were to close my eyes
And try to picture the scene on that holy night,
I would feel such a warm surprise
I would never quite trust again in earthly delight.