From 2014. Lately revised.
It is the eve of Christmas Eve,
And cities move in breathless haste
Looking for some space to relieve
The mind's distress, the spirit's waste.
Come, Holy Child: help us believe.
We count the hours until the day
When wisdom shall appear enfleshed
Within a manger thick with hay
To make our wounded world refreshed.
Come, Holy Child: do not delay.
O come, Emmanuel, O King,
O Dawn that scatters darkness drear:
Come in the silence, whisper, sing,
And bless your creatures far and near.
Come, Holy Child, our flourishing.
Love all poor bumblers back to grace;
Gentle the hearts of sage and fool;
Make tender now the hardened face;
Bring potentates beneath your rule.
Come, Holy Child: our pride abase.
O beauteous Mary, bravest bride,
And silent Joseph, stalwart, strong,
Pray that our fearful souls might bide
In life and light before too long.
Come, Holy Child: be at our side.
Poetry by Uncle Meridian
Read 95 times
Written on 2021-12-21 at 11:27
Save as a bookmark (requires login)
Write a comment (requires login)
Send as email (requires login)