The Army of Heaven

The shepherds keep watch on the hillside,
and shout as the night sky is torn:
An army comes out of the midnight,
but see! They are bending their swords.
For this is the host of God's angels,
who perfectly follow his word.
Their general now lies in a manger,
and all of the earth shall be turned.

The sword that barred Adam from Eden
shall harrow the thorn-woven ground,
preparing the earth to receive him
who sleeps in Eve's daughter's arms now.
For this is the weapon of doomsday,
more power than any can tell:
That God should let death e'er consume him
will shatter the strongholds of hell.

The shepherds sink down in amazement
and cover their eyes and their ears,
and still they are pierced by the angels
with song beyond all they can hear.
For this is the army of heaven
arrayed in its orders and ranks,
who knows that the word has been given,
and all of the earth shall give thanks.

So now they call all to the manger;
the trumpet sounds out the advance
to follow their lord and commander,
surrender to hammer and lance.
The shepherds rise up at the summons,
give heed to their orders and run
to worship God dwelling among us
and tell that all warfare is done.

Rembrandt Annunciation to the shepherds – http://www.facebook.com, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=50707534

Lords of Earth

We watched for hope throughout the night,

as sentinels for dawn,

and saw the sky fill up with light

exploding from their guns.



“All glory to the lords of earth,

who reign from west to east,

and to the new things now in birth—

for we shall be your peace!”



We shepherds all began to run,

to cry out what we'd seen,

to weep for all that had begun,

and all that long had been.



Though gods arise and kings are born,

for us it is the same:

the infants from their mothers torn,

the rubble and the flame.



Not 'til a king is born like us,

smelling the sulphur creep,

seeing the shattered world in dust,

waking from shattered sleep,



not 'til he comes in shit and smoke,

poverty and disease,

not until then will we have hope.

Then we will have our peace.

By Internet Archive Book Images – https://www.flickr.com/photos/internetarchivebookimages/14741295196/Source book page: https://archive.org/stream/pictorialbibleco00cobb/pictorialbibleco00cobb#page/n634/mode/1up, No restrictions, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=42049461

And As We Slept

For Christmas, but also the end of Advent, to the tune FINLANDIA:

And as we slept, the sky awoke with angels;

and as we dreamed, a new world came to be.

A light shone out through clouds of death and danger,

a brand-new star to show what none had seen:

the king of kings laid helpless in a manger,

the lord of lords a gentle prince of peace.



And only they who kept the midnight vigil,

who stayed awake in weeping or at watch,

beheld the light, the new king's sign and sigil,

though what it meant their human hearts knew not—

that David's son was earth and heaven bridging—

'til angels sang that they could look on God.



And off they ran to offer up their worship,

or took the road, led onward by that star,

and fast or slow, their driving on was urgent,

for now the light shone brightly in their hearts

to show new paths, to lead them in their searching,

and bring them still in safety through the dark.



And when we wake, that light will still be shining

to draw us on, right to the manger side.

Wake us, O Lord, to see your world arriving;

awake our hearts, enkindled by your light.

Open our eyes to see you here beside us,

and keep us all forever in that sight.

Annunciation to the shepherds By Rembrandt – http://www.facebook.com, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=50707534

The Word That Struck Creation’s Spark

The word that struck creation's spark
is silent in the waiting dark:
Eternity bound in her womb,
knit into time, wrapped for the tomb.

So his earth in her waters grows
'til parted by her body's throes, 
and he for whom the dark was light
is pierced by one star shining bright.

And she, the good earth for the seed,
has magnified her God indeed:
Invisible but for her love,
he wails to see the stars above.

The constellations dance and dim
beyond the light announcing him,
and shepherds who have left their sheep
now watch unblinking Godhead sleep.

They sing, in words he gave them first,
sweet comfort for the baby's birth,
that child and mother, weary worn,
may slumber, slumber, 'til the morn.

By Albrecht Dürer – This file was donated to Wikimedia Commons as part of a project by the Metropolitan Museum of Art. See the Image and Data Resources Open Access Policy, CC0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=60874091

Tonight In Bethlehem

For Kara Dahl. To the tune ST. LOUIS (REDNER) (“O Little Town of Bethlehem”):

The rowdy streets of Bethlehem
are full of noise and light,
and no one in the crowded inn
gets any sleep tonight:
They dice and shout their winnings
while notes of pure delight
are lost beneath the raucous din
that overflows the night.

The doorways spill into the streets;
the cups spill over wine.
The alleys echo dancing beats;
steps stumble out of time.
The song gives way to bleatings
among the sheep and swine,
and that gives way to something sweet,
some music more divine:

Where angels sing above the hills
as shepherds stand in awe,
the startled flocks, they snort and mill
beneath the strangest star.
And then, the whole world stilling,
and infant wails afar,
'til all the night with music fills
that spills from every bar.

And over all the raucous noise
that pours from every inn,
as one the shepherds lift their voice
and shout above the din:
“Come with us! Come rejoicing
while angels sing 'Amen'!
For all the world is filled with joys
tonight in Bethlehem!”

Bethlehem’s southside at night By ShootingforStars – Own work, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=12241321

That Night

To the tune STILLE NACHT (“Silent Night”):

Weeping night, birthing night,
Mary calls: mother's plight.
In her labor she wails and she moans;
with the effort she cries and she groans
while the world is made new,
while the world is made new.

Troubled night, shocking night,
shepherds quake at the sight—
Heav'n dissolves in an ocean of fire,
deafens earth with its thundering choir—
yet they rise in their fear,
yet they rise in their fear.

Questing night, gasping night,
magi reel, take to flight.
This new star upends all they have known:
journey far to the newborn king's throne,
they will set out at once, 
they will set out at once.

Breathless night, searching night,
we are called to his side:
Helpless godhead, he weeps with our tears;
word eternal steps into our years.
All our sorrows are his,
all our sorrows are his.

Aching night, longest night,
yet it ends, morning bright.
Bound in linen, Christ lies in the stone;
he will wake when his hunger has grown.
Dawn breaks over us all,
dawn breaks over us all.

By Franz Xaver Gruber – Stille-Nacht-Gesellschaft, meinbezirk.at, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=83372286

Seraphim O’er Bethlehem

 “Rejoice, and glory be on high!”
A blaze of eyes and wings:
“Oh, peace on earth! Goodwill!” they cry,
and hail the King of Kings.
 Each man averts his own dull eye
 and dares not dream these shining things.
  
 The swifter wings than any wind,
 the brighter eyes than flame
 shine out, and in the silence din
 the newborn savior's name,
 for now are herds and angels kin
 that heaven's son as human came.
  
 “Rise up and cast away your fear,”
(Their feathers fall like snow.)
“for even now, your Lord is near.
 Rise up, oh shepherds; go!”
And in a light more clear than clear
 the shepherds look at last and know.
  
 These whirling wings and wind of speed
(as swift as God hears prayer),
 unblinking eyes on every deed
 (as God in tender care):
 as near as this, he comes—oh, heed!—
 all joys and sorrows here to share.
  
 The shepherds rise and start to run—
 this news has giv'n them wings!
 Their brighter eyes than any sun
 see light in everything,
 e'en in the lowly gifts homespun
 they take to offer to their king.
  
 No more is earth from heaven lost,
 afloat in endless void,
 when angels on our winds are tossed
 about our songs employed,
 and gifts of none and every cost
 are by a pauper god enjoyed.