Mary looked upon her child,
The one who'd come from her own flesh
So many prophecies foretold
The things for which this babe was born
A son shall come of virgin birth
Into a poor but royal home
His name shall be Immanuel,
"God with us", the Lord Himself
Though you were the King of Kings
You came to us to be despised
And even as a tiny babe
Your fate on the cross was always sure
The Child grew in stength and grace
And learned the craft His father taught
I wonder, when He hammered a nail
Did He cringe at what He knew would come?
Because though you were the King of Kings
You came to us to be despised
And even as a tiny babe
Your fate on the cross was always sure
As You hung upon that tree
I know You must have thought of me
And though You knew all I would do
You gave Your life to set me free
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