Behold! The night is dark; the wind is chill,
but in that darkness starlight glimmers still
from stars that do not wander from the way,
but hold their ancient course through night and day.
So we must follow, even in the dark,
the morning star that rises in our heart.
We once were sleepers, dreamers in the night,
who step by step now strain our pilgrim sight
for any signs that point us on the way
or any bright forerunning of the day.
There was a voice, a knocking at the door,
that woke our souls to seek him evermore.
And as the stars unhesitating move,
so drawn, we follow this relentless love,
for he who touched our hearts and entered in
has promised we will see him once again.
He came. He comes. He's here. We seek him still.
How long, oh Lord? Your promises fulfill.
Come, take another step: the night draws on,
and surely we shall find the waiting dawn
and see again the one who called us forth
and our own end, as at his infant birth.
No matter, if we see him, where or when.
He came for us, and he will come again.
For the Feast of the Immaculate Conception: the Annunciation in an Advent mode, sung to “Oh Come, Oh Come, Emmanuel” (of course).
Fear not, all you in shadows deep,
for God his hand on you shall keep,
and though you walk in death's dark shade
the dawn breaks forth, as long you prayed.
He comes! He comes! Through doubt and gloom
his light breaks open every tomb.
Fear not, O Mary, trembling here,
though immanence to you draw near.
This shadow coming over you
is Godhead making all things new.
He comes! He comes! The dawn on high
shall come, but with an infant's cry.
Fear not, though kings and judges past
too long their empty shadows cast.
For David's throne shall fill with light
to raise the poor to glory bright.
He comes! He comes! The proud cast down,
the lowly wear his shining crown.
Fear not, though deserts overflow;
this flood shall drown the ancient foe
and death be conquered now by grace,
by light that rises in God's face.
He comes! He comes! Emmanuel
shall bring you day, O Israel!
For today’s first reading from Isaiah 40, to the tune AURELIA (“The Church’s One Foundation”):
Give comfort unto Zion;
announce oppression's end.
He comes now, Judah's lion,
the low'ring skies to rend.
Beside the Father's high throne
his words our heartaches mend:
“I come to make you my own,
my kingdom without end.”
On deepest wounds and gashes
he lays his healing hand;
proud power's heights he smashes
to fill the lower land.
He kindles cooling ashes
and quenches burning brands.
From our world's whips and lashes
he weaves his swaddling bands.
He hears the poor implore him
and sees their crushing load,
drives traders out before him,
his words and works their goad.
The foll'wing flock adore him,
who leads them to their good;
they raise the evermore hymn
to Christ the Son of God.
For yesterday’s first reading (go read the whole thing!), to the tune CONDITOR ALME SIDERUM (“Creator of the Stars of Night”).
Oh, flow'r of Jesse's faded stem,
you blossom born in Bethlehem,
transform us: lions all and lambs
conformed to you, the great I Am.
The Spirit resting on you, Lord,
is mightier than any sword.
With truth and justice, come decide;
for earth's afflicted judge aright.
Strike down the ruthless with your rod—
your word, your power, mighty God—
and slay the wicked by your breath
to spare them all eternal death.
Then we shall gather on your mount
beside your ever flowing fount.
The wolf shall be the lamb's own guest,
the calf and bear alike be blest.
There ox and lion feed on grain
beside you, saving Lamb once slain.
The child shall grasp the adder's head
and suffer naught of pain or dread.
No harm or hurt on all that height,
but all the earth filled with your light.
When Jesse's root shall rise again
all nations join his great Amen!
O Father, as you know our span,
teach us to count our days and nights,
to make our peace with what you plan
and know our place in it aright.
For we, new shoots in dawn's new light,
will wither long ere dusk should fall.
Does all our promise, once so bright,
to nothing come at Gabriel's call?
A root that once grew cedar tall
and sleeps as dead within the earth,
yet living still in winter's pall,
awakens and awaits its birth.
A feast from in our barest dearth,
from barren soil a rose shall bloom;
from all our oldest sorrows, mirth,
a dawning light from midnight gloom.
New life is sprouting from the tomb;
He comes, the long-expected flow'r!
Come, withered hearts, prepare him room:
Your faded leaves shall be his bow'r.
We, too, shall blossom in his pow'r,
a harvest even greater than
we bore before, when comes his hour,
when God-with-us comes, born a man.
Shortly before Christmas, we will mark nine months since we first went on lockdown. To the tune FINLANDIA:
The months have passed so quickly and so slowly,
and still she waits: The promise has its time.
From heaven came to her, so young, so lowly,
an angel bright, immaculate its shine,
and she become the mother of the holy,
her will his own, herself his earthly shrine.
The days are long but drawing to their fullness;
her pains will come, but when she cannot say.
Still it will end, this weariness, this dullness;
this sleepless night will fall to joyous day.
She bears within a bright, unshaken stillness:
The promise comes, and it will not delay.
So we must wait, as Mary in her patience
waits for his birth, for Jesus to appear.
The Son of God and savior of the nations
and humble man who dwells among us here:
Come, show your love and grant us your salvation!
Give us the grace to hope as you draw near.
She journeys now to Bethlehem in wonder,
far from her home and all the world she knew.
She is his world; her heartbeat is his thunder:
He comes to rend all things and make all new.
When shall he come to shake the world asunder?
Come, savior, come! We wait with her for you!
For Advent, to the tune OLD 100TH (“Praise God From Whom All Blessings Flow”):
Come, promised since our Eden's end;
child of the woman, come defend.
Long have we felt the serpent's sting:
Come, strike his head, and mercy bring!
Come, Son of God, and make us new.
Light of the world, our hearts renew.
Hope in our inner darkness dies:
Oh, healing sun of justice, rise!
Come, Son of Man, and show your face
marked by the signs of age and race.
Come, touch us with your calloused hands,
and walk again our tear-stained lands.
Come, counselor, to teach the way;
wonderful, may we see your day!
So long did we in darkness dwell—
Come, dawn, to break the chains of hell!
Then, in your everlasting morn,
Christ, in our hearts be ever borne.
There in the light of endless grace,
oh savior, shine in every face! Amen!
For the Second and Third Sundays of Advent this year, to the tune FINLANDIA.
A wind that breathes of locusts and wild honey
and sears our hearts—the touch of burning sands—
it bears the voice, the words of Christ's forerunning:
“Make straight his way through heights and desert lands,
then watch and pray to see him at his coming,
the Lamb who comes with justice in his hands.”
Now we have come to Jordan in our hunger;
the prophet's words our sated hearts strip bare.
His piercing voice rolls in our souls as thunder:
“Behold, he comes! His highway now prepare!
The valleys lift, the mountains topple under;
while kings bow down, the poor rise up in prayer.”
Come, Baptist, come and wash us for repentance,
then watch with us for him who comes at last
to make us new and with the Spirit cleanse us,
though we're not fit to loose his sandal straps.
Not as a judge to pass his righteous sentence,
he comes t'unbind our souls from sins gone past.
From Zion's height cry out the savior's coming:
Our guilt is gone, our service at an end.
The desert blooms, made rich with rivers running,
and glory dwells beside us in the land.
Cry, Baptist, cry the words as sweet as honey:
“Make straight his way, and come to take his hands!”
A voice cries out from Zion's height,
“He comes! Prepare the way!”
The echoes split the silent night
that has forgotten day.
“He comes! Look up to see the dawn;
give strength to help the weak!”
But still the night drags on and on
and brings not what we seek.
Lo! deep within the sleeping earth
a groaning tremor wakes
to watch the new horizon's birth,
and Zion's mountain quakes.
Then one by one the pebbles fall,
and on their heels, great stones,
then boulders shout a warning call:
“Bow down, ye pow'rs and thrones!”
And I bow, too, in fear and pain;
my peaks are all brought low,
and all that I had thought was gain
is shattered at a blow.
“Come quickly, Lord.” The echoes drown
my voice e'en as it prays.
But if you bring the mountains down,
my valleys you will raise.
But the day of the Lord will come like a thief, and then the heavens will pass away with a mighty roar and the elements will be dissolved by fire, and the earth and everything done on it will be found out. Since everything is to be dissolved in this way, what sort of persons ought you to be, conducting yourselves in holiness and devotion, waiting for and hastening the coming of the day of God, because of which the heavens will be dissolved in flames and the elements melted by fire. But according to his promise we await new heavens and a new earth in which righteousness dwells.
For this very cheerful reading for the Second Sunday of Advent this year (which comes right after the one about “give comfort to my people”!), to the tune of “The King Shall Come When Morning Dawns” (MORNING SONG):
The world shall be dissolved in fire;
the elements dislimn
to strains of th'everlasting choir
in glorious praise of him.
In praise of Christ, the living word
God spoke before the world,
that made all things when it was heard,
creation all unfurled.
In nothingness did Christ resound,
and echoes filled the void,
not now in silence to be drowned
when all else is destroyed
but at the end to sound anew,
be spoken once again
when earth and heaven are made new,
the Father's Great Amen.
Then lift your voice above the flame
and join the angel choir.
Sing out the Savior's glorious name
within his love's bright fire!
Ragnarök after Surtr has engulfed the world with fire By Emil Doepler – Doepler, Emil. ca. 1905. Walhall, die Götterwelt der Germanen. Martin Oldenbourg, Berlin. Page 57. Photographed and cropped by User:Haukurth., Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=5208618
Kate Bluett 