The Infinite Has Become an Infant

Let your steadfast love come to me, O Lord, your salvation according to your promise.
Ps. 119:41

And now wonder, ye angels, the Infinite has become an infant; he, upon whose shoulders the universe doth hang, hangs at his mothers breast; he who created all things, and bears up the pillars of creation, hath now become so weak that he must be carried by a woman! And oh, wonder, ye that knew him in his riches, whilst ye admire his poverty! Where sleeps the new-born King? Had he the best room in Caesar’s palace? hath a cradle of gold been prepared for him, and pillows of down, on which to rest his head? No, where the ox fed, in the dilapidated stable, in the manger, there the Savior lies, swathed in the swaddling bands of the children of poverty!
 Charles Spurgeon (Sept. 13, 1857) 

May I never cease to be amazed by your coming, O God, in Jesus Christ, who taught me to pray...