Christ | Christmas | Incarnation | Poetry | Praise

The air rests cool upon the brow./The streets are hushed and in the quiet lanes/no life stirs now.
Overhead, the bare limbs creak,/naked victims of the winter wind,/barren and bleak.
Stark shadows on the wintry sky/cry dark foreboding of harsh days ahead/ere spring creeps nigh
Along the road the houses bank/like wary legions in deep sleep curled,/lying in rank.
fingers of light forerun the morn;/I stand, and know that on such a night/my Lord was born. Alleluia! From The Evangel, St. Andrew’s Episcopal Church, Saratoga, California, Roy Strassburger, Pastor. 95070

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