Stumbling towards Bethlehem to gaze upon the humble King,
While the city lights entreat me to linger, to stay, to spend.
Stumbling towards Bethlehem to gaze upon the Prince of Peace,
While the allure of Herodic power seeks justification for violence.
Stumbling towards Bethlehem to gaze upon the lover of outcasts,
While the pull of risk-averse comfort beckons me to forsake diversity.
This humble King,
This Prince of Peace,
This lover of outcasts,
The one who lived, the one who died, the one who rose again.
The one who will come again and wipe away the tears from the stumblers and the gazers.
Maranatha, the Advent pilgrims' cry,
"Come, Lord Jesus," end our strife.
-Swales
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