off the Christmas trees where angels work their worship songs;
when we hear the effervescent shrieking call
of Christ the Babe; when the Magi come, making up their throngs.
you alone i will seek when the Child puts mud on the eyes
of the Blind Man allowing him to see; when the mustard seeds
become a moral for my namesake; when the flies
strip off of Lazarus who lives; when He's baptized by the reeds.
you alone i will seek when Pilot shakes his fists
and Judas places thorny crowns upon His head;
when we see the spearhead stigmata from his wrists;
when the news runs through Galilee that Christ is dead.
you alone i will seek when His death leads me in despair—
my dear own Messiah with your darkly hair.