In the final post of this advent series through Luther's eyes, it is fitting that we conclude with Luther's own words. Luther was a wonderful original thinker and theologian, but he was also beautiful with the pen. The poem below that is found in chapter eight of Luther's Christmas Book captures such beauty.
The danger is that in our haste to finish reading the poem we might not ruminate on its content as Luther intended. Slow down this Christmas, for a short while at least, and reflect on the beauty and wonder of God made us for us in Jesus in these words.
From Heaven High
From heaven high I come to earth. I bring you tidings of great mirth. This mirth is such a wondrous thing that I must tell you all and sing.
A little child for you this morn has from a chosen maid been born, A little child so tender, sweet, that you should skip upon your feet.
He is the Christ, our God indeed, who saves you all in every need. He will himself your Saviour be. From all wrong doing make you free.
He brings you every one to bliss. The heavenly Father sees to this. You shall be here with us on high. Here shall you live and never die.
Look now, you children, at the sign, a manger cradle far from fine. A tiny baby you will see. Upholder of the world is he.
How glad we'll be if it is so! With all the shepherds let us go To see what God for us has done in sending us his own dear Son.
Look, look, my heart, and let me peek. Whom in the manger do you seek?
Who is that lovely little one? The Baby Jesus, God's own Son. Be welcome, Lord; be now our guest. By you poor sinners have been blessed. In nakedness and cold you lie. How can I thank you-how can I?
O Lord, who made and molded all, how did you come to be so small That you should lie upon dry grass, the fodder of the ox and ass?
And if the world were twice as wide, with gold and precious jewels inside, Still such a cradle would not do to hold a babe as great as you.
The velvet and the silken ruff, for these the hay is good enough. Here lies a prince and Lord of all, a king within an ass's stall.
You wanted so to make me know that you had let all great things go. You had a palace in the sky; you left it there for such as I.
O dear Lord Jesus, for your head now will I make the softest bed. The chamber where this bed shall be is in my heart, inside of me.
I can play the whole day long. I'll dance and sing for you a song, A soft and soothing lullaby, so sweet that you will never cry.
To God who sent his only Son be glory, laud, and honor done. Let all the choir of heaven rejoice, the new ring in with heart and voice.