He left His Father’s Throne in Heaven
A servant to become,
He was not born in an ivory palace,
But as a carpenter’s son,
He made Himself of no repute,
This was no act of God,
The form of a servant He took on Himself,
He chose the pathway He trod.
In the likeness of men, Jesus was made:
In a stable was born as a pauper,
To the smell of the cattle, the hay, and the dung,
No welcome by an Hotel Porter.
Chose rags over riches, sweeping the dust,
And the dirt of the workshop floor,
“’Came obedient to death, e’en the death of the Cross” –
A life that we would abhor
He chose a life of humility,
In the form of God, His estate,
He thought it not robbery to be equal with God,
Yet the meanest place did He take.
No matter how high we have reached in this life,
What abilities, achievements we have,
In the eyes of God, we are nothing but dust,
But as servants we make His heart glad!
Peter Burt
GOSPEL CRUMBS 
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