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Luggage, please sir!
Finest Italian leather,
Hand rubbed and trimmed with gold.
Only the best entrusted
His offering of gifts to hold.
Deceitfulness.
Pride.
Arrogance and jealousy.
These are his gifts to hold.
Have you anything to declare, sir?
He likes to wear his linen robes,
Hand embroidered, fine as lace.
Head high, strutting proudly,
He makes sure they know his place.
Selfishness.
Lies.
Stubbornness, adultery.
He makes sure they know his place.
Anything else to declare, sir?
He stands in the public square,
Voice upraised amongst the din.
Face toward heaven, arms open wide
And no one knows he hides his sin.
Anger.
Injustice.
Stealing and hatred.
And no one knows he hides his sin.
Luggage, please sir!
Plain and common and dirty;
Held together with string.
It is all he has to carry -
These are his gifts for the King.
Humility.
Honor.
Love and service.
These are his gifts for the King.
Have you anything to declare, sir?
Robes that declare a lowly status,
Tattered and worn and thin.
They are but cheap and badly sewn,
No covering for his sin.
Forgiving.
Thankful.
Showing mercy.
No covering for his sin.
Anything else to declare, sir?
He chooses carefully and tries to hide;
Clasps his hands and bows his head.
A saddened and a humbled heart -
He feels his place is with the dead.
Honest.
Generous.
Faithful and true.
He feels his place is with the dead.
Walk on through, sir.
Your gifts are all that the King requires:
A humble and contrite heart.
Your robes are the robes of righteousness -
His love now fills your heart.
By His blood
Now justified.
Forgiveness for your sin.
All that He requires is a willing, obedient heart.
These are your gifts for the King.
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