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My Santa does not come just once a year,
He abides within, making every day Christmas:
He does not slide down some dirty old chimney,
But He "stands at the door and knocks";
He doesn't carry His gifts in a bag, slung over His back,
But He gives gifts most precious, to the weary soul:
He doesn't give in reluctance, gifts that will soon perish,
But gifts eternal, spiritual gifts.
He does not ride on a sleigh pulled by eight tiny reindeer,
But mounts the wind, and mounts up as an eagle;
He doesn't live in a cold, distant place,
But is alive in the hearts' of all will receive Him:
My Santa also spreads joy throughout the world;
He too brings laughter and joy to girls and boys,
And peace to the troubled soul;
He brings abundant life, liberty to the soul.
Yes, my Santa made the stars, hung the worlds on nothing;
He is the Lord of lords, the King of kings,
My Santa is the Lord Jesus Christ, the True Christmas.
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