No crib for a bed, no crown for a king, the cold hand of fate seemed destined for him. The poorest of cradles, the lowliest of stables, the Chosen one Humbled Himself in that stink. But greater, and wiser more knowing, they came- They Knew this Child, they called out His Name. The heavens opened; Showers of adoration and grace overflowing. The angels still sing; hearts worship still brin- ADORE HIM, BOW BEFORE HIM, Our Savior, Our King!