From Your throne You did descend,
broken world, hearts, and covenants to mend.
A bed not made or offered for you,
rather a mess we gave of Gentiles and Jews.
The Angels sang to the lowly of men,
Shepherds of sheep and great fear within.
Bright star guided Magi outside your people of norm.
Things would be different from this King being born.
You lived perfection, died then amazing resurrection,
all for Your chosen to know Your affection.
From Belize to Thailand and Israel to Iraq,
masses of scattered believers are
calling you back.
Maranatha! we cry with hope and longing,
as we proclaim to the Nations of Gospel belonging.