I have a friend, but he’s a king
Not of a nation’s worlds
But of the world’s nations. A king,
Not of peoples but of kings and gods.
If he so wishes, he has
Emperors for guards as empires for a footstool
Presidents to prepare his path
And queens to wait at his table.
His throne is glorious; made of hays
Mighty indeed with shepherds for an entourage
As angels bow low to hail
Hail this carpenter’s boy.
His are the starry skies
He commands the deep blue seas
His voice roars across the desert isles
And stormy winds go not beyond his decrees.
He is the start and end of all
But his reign has no end
Defying the limits of space and time
For the eternal fulfillment of all peoples is praise of him.
The green fields of sheep, harvest time and the rain
With the sun and the winter
And the bees’ nectar
All they, are pledges of his faithfulness
All he breathes out is love
On all who inhabits the earth
For that was the reason for his season of pain
When humbly he went to it on a colt.
He wrote no works
But he’s the wisdom of the greatest authors
Never a historian,
But the completion of world’s history.
Lords revere him, masters quake in his sight
Yet he has open arms to welcome all
The world awaits the kingdom of this king
And yet, this king is my friend.