The Winter is Cold, is Cold, by Madeleine L'Engle The winter is cold, is cold. All's spent in keeping warm. Has joy been frozen, too? I blow upon my hands Stiff from the biting wind. My heart beats slow, beats slow. What has become of joy? If joy's gone from my heart Then it is closed to You Who made it, gave it life. If I protect myself I'm hiding, Lord, from you. How we defend ourselves In ancient suits of mail! Protected from the sword, Shrinking from the wound, We look for happiness, Small, safety-seeking, dulled, Selfish, exclusive, in-turned. Elusive, evasive, peace comes Only when it's not sought. Help me forget the cold That grips...
Advent Calendar, by Rowan Williams He will come like last leaf's fall. One night when the November wind has flayed the trees to bone, and earth wakes choking on the mould, the soft shroud's folding. He will come like frost. One morning when the shrinking earth opens on mist, to find itself arrested in the net of alien, sword-set beauty. He will come like dark. One evening when the bursting red December sun draws up the sheet and penny-masks its eye to yield the star-snowed fields of sky. He will come, will come, will come like crying in the night, like blood, like breaking, as the earth writhes to toss him free. He will come like child....
A Christmas Carol, by G.K. Chesterton
The Christ-child lay on Mary's lap,
His hair was like a light.
(O weary, weary were the world,
But here is all aright.)
The Christ-child lay on Mary's breast,
His hair was like a star.
(O stern and cunning are the kings,
But here the true hearts are.)
The Christ-child lay on Mary's heart,
His hair was like a fire.
(O weary, weary is the world, But here the world's desire.)
The Christ-child stood on Mary's knee,
His hair was like a crown,
And all the flowers looked up at Him, And all the stars looked down.
What the Bird Said Early in the Year, by C.S. Lewis I heard in Addison’s Walk a bird sing clear: This year the summer will come true. This year. This year. Winds will not strip the blossom from the apple trees This year, nor want of rain destroy the peas. This year time’s nature will no more defeat you, Nor all the promised moments in their passing cheat you. This time they will not lead you round and back To Autumn, one year older, by the well-worn track.\ This year, this year, as all these flowers foretell, We shall escape the circle and undo the spell. Often deceived, yet open once again your heart, Quick,...
The Lord Will Come and Not Be Slow, by John Milton The Lord will come and not be slow, his footsteps cannot err; before him righteousness shall go, his royal harbinger. Truth from the earth, like to a flower, shall bud and blossom then; and justice, from her heavenly bower, look down on mortal men. Surely to such as do him fear salvation is at hand! And glory shall ere long appear to dwell within our land. Rise, God, judge thou the earth in might, this wicked earth redress; for thou art he who shalt by right the nations all possess. The nations all whom thou hast made shall come, and all shall frame to bow...
