And is that rose still blooming
that blossomed long ago,
the dark of night illuming
with its own brilliant glow?
We long to see that light,
here in this dismal glooming
when half-spent is the night.
Where is the Kingdom coming
we thought would then appear?
He said it was among us;
we almost saw it clear
by his bright-shining light—
and is it now gone from us
when half-spent is the night?
How shall we find that flower
when winter withers all?
Must we who seek its power
now see its petals fall?
Can it still rise in light
in this forsaken hour
when half-spent is the night?
Come forth, O Rose of Sharon;
come in this bitter time.
Reveal your love and daring,
your mercy most sublime
for you are God's own light,
our heavy darkness bearing
when half-spent is the night.
O Lord our justice,
come set things right:
Bring peace from chaos;
bring day from night,
and in our darkness
still shine your light.
Upon our weakness,
pour out your might.
Fulfill your promise:
Raise David's shoot
'til all our cities
can dwell secure.
Cut down all conquest;
uproot all war,
and reap your harvest
to feed the poor.
Your day is coming;
your hour is near.
Oh, keep us hoping
in times of fear,
and meet us working
your way to clear.
O Christ, come quickly!
O King, appear!
When the sun and moon are darkened,
when the stars begin to fall,
when the hearts in charge are hardened,
when we cannot hear you call,
when our lives and loves are parted
by the end that comes for all,
when you come to reap your harvest,
grant us courage standing tall.
Come, O Lord, and bring salvation;
justice bring to every land.
Come to crush the serpent's wisdom;
come with mercy in your hand.
Drown the whispers of temptation
with the song the angels sang.
Come at last and bring redemption!
Come again, O Son of Man!
Give your courage to the fearful;
pour your strength into the weak.
Bring your comfort to the tearful,
your reward to those who seek.
Forge a way across the desert;
orchards in the wastelands make.
Sing your song and let us hear it:
Let the dawn upon us break!
For today’s readings on the Feast of Christ the King, to the tune AURELIA (“The Church’s One Foundation”):
You came at first in chaos,
when earth and heav'n were born,
in all the clouds of cosmos
and coalescing forms.
The whisper of creation
that split the day from night
was your first revelation:
You came, and there was light.
Then in the fog of empire,
of upheaval and doubt,
the clouded skies of midnight
when all the lights went out:
You came to bring the kingdom,
a rule not of this world,
that set the heavens ringing
with songs of peace on earth.
But come again, Christ Jesus;
come fill our hearts, we pray.
To draw us to your feasting,
come overturn our ways.
Transform us by your presence
as you transform this food;
come to the cloud of witness
with holy flesh and blood.
Then come once more forever
to reign as Christ our king.
Oh, come on clouds descending,
your lasting peace to bring.
Come, Alpha and Omega,
eternal Word of truth.
Speak into us, O Savior;
make us forever new.
Let mountains flow with justice, Lord,
and barren hills give birth to peace,
dry streambeds with your promise flow--
oh, may these mercies never cease!
He comes, as rain upon the grass:
High heaven's son to earth descends,
not as the nights and days that pass,
but with a light that never ends.
All generations call him blest,
who saw the poor and came as one,
who hears the cries of all th'oppressed
and rules 'til all oppression's done.
For you give justice to the king,
your judgment, God, to Christ your son.
Our souls will magnify and sing
his name while mercy's rivers run
The highest kings of greatest lands
shall come before him, kneeling down
with gold and incense in their hands
to give the lowly their own crowns.
The hungry will be given food;
the rich be given hunger's gifts
that they may taste and see 'tis good
when Christ the poor and lowly lifts.
For you have kept your promise, God,
your vow of hope to Israel,
your little ones forgetting not,
and they your praise on earth shall tell!
Ho! the heart upon the dungheap
rises to the highest throne.
Chasms spanning, who so long leaps?
None, my soul, but God alone.
God, who casts us down in dying,
God, who raises us to life,
all my joy is multiplying:
children for the barren wife.
Broken bows afright the mighty;
gluttons labor for their bread.
Weak and poor are hopeful rising;
up my heart springs from the dead.
Withered hands new strength are girding;
empty hands with riches filled.
God his flock is rightly herding,
resurrecting what we killed.
Now my heart in God exulting,
now my horn upheld on high,
silent once but now rejoicing,
I will sing my victory:
I who wept in fruitless hunger,
I have swallowed up my foes.
Long I dwelt a shadow under
'til the morning star arose.
Malnazar – Hannah before Eli the High Priest – Google Art Project (Armenian)Details of artist on Google Art Project – dgF7tfCavMnByg at Google Cultural Institute maximum zoom level, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=22182592
Based on the O Antiphons, with a verse at the end for the ERO CRAS acrostic. To the tune PALMYRA (WESSEX works, too).
Before the world was ever made,
when nothing filled the void,
O Wisdom, in the dark you played;
our making you enjoyed.
Now come, creation's guiding Word:
Fulfill the promise we have heard.
The burning bush that Moses saw,
the torch of cloud and flame:
O Leader who inscribed the law,
on our hearts write your name.
Now come again to part the sea
and set your captive people free.
A seed lies sleeping in the earth,
which blossomed long ago.
O Jesse's Root, we wait your birth;
your budding kingdom show.
Now come, take root in us and flow'r,
the growth of love and saving pow'r.
The gates of righteousness are closed,
and we in exile wait.
O David' Key, unlock the doors
and open heaven's gate.
Now come to set us free from sin,
that we may walk with God again.
We walk in shadowed valleys here
and dwell in deathly gloom.
O Radiant Dawn, rise bright and clear,
and shine into our tomb.
Now come, our sun of justice; rise
and let your glory fill the skies.
The kingdom built on shifting sand
shall crumble in the storm.
O King of Nations, firmly stand
to save all those you formed.
Now come, oh Lord, and dwell with us
as we go on from dust to dust.
The heaven's all God's glory tell,
and here we add our voice:
O Lord, O King, Emmanuel,
we see you and rejoice!
Now come and save us. Christ, appear
as we your worshipers draw near.
Tomorrow shall he come at last;
tomorrow sorrows end.
O weep for joy; the night is past;
the morning star ascends!
Now come, believers, to his throne
for Christ has come to greet his own!
'Tis not our hands that build the house
or raise the everlasting throne,
nor can our strength adorn your spouse,
whose every grace is gift alone.
Unless you build, we strive in vain,
and our foundations shift and break.
Our work will not withstand the strain
when waters rise and mountains quake.
Come, raise a house for us, oh Lord,
and fix for us a place to dwell
in safety from the victor sword
that claimed us when our stonework fell.
Come, raise at last your endless throne
to stand forever firm on earth.
Give us a king, your Son alone,
and let us praise you for his birth:
All praise to God, who builds aright:
the Father, laying perfect plans,
the Son who comes to give us light,
and Spirit who will guide our hands!
This is what happens when you write after reading Hildegard von Bingen lyrics.
No eye but God's can pierce the womb;
no hand there shapes the living clay.
No breath stirs there or in the tomb;
no light can bring therein the day
except God's own, and there he makes
our human life. Our form he takes.
The waters there hold all his dust;
he dwells within a land of gloom,
a seed in empty garden thrust—
oh, see, our desert places bloom!
Our inner darkness fills with light,
unfolding to the savior's sight.
Our lungs will fill with his first breath;
our blood runs rivers in his veins.
His birth will sanctify our death,
and, bound to life, he breaks our chains
within the secret world unseen
of Mary's body, heaven's queen.
Creation now in labor groans;
we groan with her who so long waits.
But now the King of Glory comes:
Lift up your heads, ye mighty gates,
and let him enter. Who is he?
God-with-us in humanity.
“Universal Man” illumination from Hildegard’s Liber Divinorum Operum, I.2. Lucca, MS 1942, early 13th-century copy. By Creator:Hildegard von Bingen, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=47047
For today’s first reading from Isaiah. Written to the tune ST. FLAVIAN (“Lord, Who Throughout These Forty Days”), then set to music by Paul Zach, featured on the Art & Theology blog.
He comes, the Lord's anointed one,
and we shall see his face
as clear as if the rising run
poured out the light of grace.
He comes, and we shall hear his voice
not as some mystic sound
but tones that make the heart rejoice
when love long lost is found.
He comes, not to the wise and great,
but to the bound and poor,
so low himself that potentates
must kneel to pass his door.
He comes, with favor in his hands,
our empty souls to fill,
to make a highway through the sands
and bid the storms be still.
He comes, and we shall go to him
set free from ancient chains,
adorned in mercy's diadem
to glory in his reign.
He comes, the Lord, as one of us;
he comes to judge the earth:
How wonderful, how glorious
his long-awaited birth!
Kate Bluett 