Thieves and Lambs

For Advent, to the tune FINLANDIA:

When shall you come, a thief within the darkness,
marauding Lord, to catch me unawares?
My foolish heart locks doors and puts the bars up
and guards the house; my trustless soul prepares.
For I am one who knows betrayal's sharpness:
I am a thief.  Come to my door who dares.

You came here once and fell beside the highway
beneath the blows of murderers and thieves.
We waited long in dim and shadowed doorways,
with hardened hearts and daggers up our sleeves.
We spilled your blood and scattered to the byways,
before the wind, so many fallen leaves.

And will you come, a lamb that longs for slaughter?
Come yet again, a dead but holy fool
to fall as prey to your own sons and daughters
(the fate of lambs where ewes and rams are cruel)
among the rocks, your blood poured out as water?
It bubbles up, an overflowing pool!

I hide away, a thief within the shadows;
I bar the door and hope you pass me by—
to no avail.  You shatter all the windows
and stream inside, an ever-breaking light.
So here we stand, two lambs in endless meadows:
You walk ahead, I follow on behind.