As the sun rises over the barren and scorched African plains,
A small child struggles to her feet…despite her obvious pain.
One of many thousands...all of them poor unfortunate souls,
Who stand with hope by the aid trucks…with their empty bowls.
A sea of hungry and thirsty children…hardly able to walk,
No laughter, giggling or singing…as they are too ill to talk.
Their bodies so emaciated…their tears express their pain,
As they try to digest a handful of rice…and sit down again.
Everyday is a living nightmare…no energy to ask… Why?
But come to terms with the fact…that they were born to die.
Breeding flies and insects…spreading infection and disease,
Too weak to stand-up…left crawling around on their knees.
Christmas Day arrives…the day our Lord Jesus was born,
No gifts or party for them…just a handful of rice or corn.
No trees or cover to shelter from the searing heat everyday,
Left shivering on cold dark nights…as their life ebbs away.
So Lord Jesus have mercy…set their tormented spirits free,
And give them a happier life in heaven…for all eternity.
Freedom from pain and suffering…and no more tears to cry,
As you embrace these poor little children…sadly born to die.
