I hope to keep adding more of my Advent and Christmas "favorites" in the days leading up to the feast. It's especially fitting now, since Advent has kicked into overdrive, so to speak -- the "O Antiphons" began yesterday! This is the time of Advent that feels a little breathless with expectation, like hearing long-awaited footsteps at the door or that time I *swore* I heard jingle-bells on the roof one Christmas Eve.
So here is one favorite for today. (These poems over the next few days all come from the back of the Divine Office for the Advent and Christmas seasons, and I used to read these over and over in the convent.)
Behold the father is his daughter's son,
The bird that built the nest is hatched therein,
The old of years an hour hat not outrun,
Eternal life to live doth now begin,
The Word is dumb, the mirth of heaven doth weep,
Might feeble is, and force doth faintly creep.
O dying souls, behold your living spring;
O dazzled eyes, behold your sun of grace;
Dull ears, attend what word this Word doth bring;
Up, heavy hearts, with joy your Joy embrace.
From death, from dark, from deafness, from despair:
This life, this light, this Word, this joy repairs.
Gift better than himself God doth not know;
Gift better than his God no man can see.
This gift doth here the giver given bestow;
Gift to this gift let each receiver be.
God is my gift; himself he freely gave me;
God's gift am I, and none but God shall have me.
Man altered was by sin from man to beast;
Beast's food is hay, hay is all mortal flesh.
Now God is flesh and lies in manger pressed
As hay, the brutest sinner to refresh.
O happy field wherein this fodder grew,
Whose taste doth us from beasts to men renew.
--Robert Southwell
More to come tomorrow! What about all of you? Any favorite Christmas poems to share?
About Me
- Jen
- I'm a 30-something Catholic, pursuing a doctorate in clinical psychology, and looking for ways to live life fully while dealing with chronic pain. I started this blog as a way to collect beautiful things as I find them: photos, songs, recipes, blog posts, and the record of my own encounter with grace amidst the pain.
3 comments:
I've always loved this one from good ol' G.K. Chesterton, especially the last few lines:
A Christmas Carol
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 at Mary's knee,
His hair was like a crown.
And all the flowers looked up at Him,
And all the stars looked down.
Oh, yes -- I'd read that once, but never copied it down. I love that one, too! Thanks!
This is not technically -- or perhaps I should say not typically -- a Christmas poem. It is a love poem that uses a metaphor of snow. But, like all great love poetry, it can be well applied by the soul to God -- especially given that He too kind of fell from the sky.
"Love Recognized"
There are many things in the world and you
Are one of them. Many things keep happening and
You are one of them, and the happening that
Is you keeps falling like snow
On the landscape of not-you, hiding hideousness, until
The streets and the world of wrath are choked with snow.
How many things have become silent? Traffic
Is throttled. The mayor
Has been, clearly, remiss, and the city
Was totally unprepared for such a crisis. Nor
Was I - yes, why should this happen to me?
I have always been a law-abiding citizen.
But you, like snow, like love, keep falling.
And it is not certain that the world will not be
Covered in a glitter of crystalline whiteness.
Silence.
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