Tonight He Is Yours
(by Leotha Wade Slagowski)

Tonight He is yours, Mary.
For this is the hour of His birth.
Count His little toes one by one—
A million mothers have counted newborn baby toes
A million times before.
Marvel at His baby feet.
Tomorrow He will walk the shores of Galilee
And there’s a long hard hill ahead to climb
Called Calvary—
But tonight He is yours.
See Him curl His tiny fingers around your own.
Out in the darkness of the night,
The deaf, the sick and blind await His touch.
But tonight His little hands are yours, alone.
Tenderly trace the outline of His lips.
Tomorrow flow the words of Life Eternal.
The world awaits the story of the lilies—
But baby lips were made to be caressed.
Touch His birth-wet hair and,
Kiss His soft, warm baby cheek.
Tomorrow the crushing multitudes will
Press and push and reach to
Touch the hem of His garment—
But tonight He is yours.
Hold Him, oh so close, to your heart.
Tomorrow He must be about His Father’s business,
And all the world is waiting for salvation—
But tonight, He is . . .
Listen!  Can you hear the angels singing?
And look! The star’s already shining.
Wrap Him in swaddling clothes, Mary,
And lay Him in the manger,
For shepherds will be knocking at your door.