...ancient splendors fling

For lo, the days are hastening on, by prophet bards foretold,

when with the ever-circling years comes round the age of gold;

when peace shall over all the earth its ancient splendors fling,

and the whole world give back the song which now the angels sing.

---Edmund H. Sears, 1849

I won’t lie. The complete text of this hymn, written in 1849 by Massachusetts minister Edmund Sears, is one of the most incisive studies of peace, and how we destroy it, that I have ever read. Almost no hymnal includes all the verses, but you can find them complete on several internet sites, and I encourage you to do so (along with the entire text of ‘I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day’, from Longfellow’s poem  ). Their power will affect you deeply; and in our world of commonplace, numbing un-peace, we need the angels’ song to shock us out of our complacency.

This verse looks forward to a time when the world will be set right, in tune with the song of the angels, at peace. Imagine, a time when peace, personified, flings its splendors over the whole world; a time when warring and internal turmoil cease around the globe; a time when we mortals can forget our war-cries and shouts of hate and fear, and fill our mouths and hearts to echo back the peace song the angels have sung all along.

Lo, the days are hastening on…and I can’t wait.

...awake to hear...to answer

It strikes me, at odd moments--mostly when I am confronted with uncertainty and fear over entering some new phase or stage of life-- how much of the Nativity story happened because people were awake.

Maiden Mary, hearing the rustle of messenger wings, the whisper of promise, challenge, provision, prophecy. Fiance Joseph, awakened by a dream visitor, with future-rocking words. Shepherds, sleepless and watchful, exposed to the night elements, catching the sky split open with the stunning news that earth and heaven were one.

Awake. Awake to hear. Awake to answer.

So many 'ifs'. One 'yes'. 

And the Gloria? The Gloria was the ringing of the spheres, the sound of heaven come to earth. The sounding, and resounding, of 'yes'.

~~~

Merry Christmas, friends. The video here is my brand new song for Christmas, If Not for What the Angels Sang, performed by some good friends on Christmas Eve morning (lyrics below). I hope you'll give it a listen, and pass it on.

If not for what the angels sang
Above the wild and windy plains
Echoes in the spangled sky
A boundless song, a Baby's cry
Gloria in excelsis Deo.

If not for what the shepherds heard
The stunning song, the summoning words
To stay within the sheltering fold?
Or seek the Child out in the cold?
Come, my friends, let us up and go!

If not for how the Baby came
Among the little, lost, and lame
Walking the same paths we trod
Showing us the heart of God
Love of Heaven come to earth below.

If not for what the angels sang
If not for what the shepherds heard
If not for how the Baby came--
Jesus Christ, God on earth.

If not for what the angels sang
Above the wild and windy plains
Echoes in the spangled sky
A boundless song, a Baby's cry
Gloria in excelsis Deo.

--LACA, 10/20/17

...peace-flung splendors

For lo, the days are hastening on, by prophet bards foretold,

when with the ever-circling years comes round the age of gold;

when peace shall over all the earth its ancient splendors fling,

and the whole world give back the song which now the angels sing.

---Edmund Sears, 1849

I won’t lie. The complete text of this hymn, written in 1849 by Massachusetts minister Edmund Sears, is one of the most incisive studies of peace, and how we destroy it, that I have ever read. Almost no hymnal includes all the verses, but you can find them complete on several internet sites, and I encourage you to do so (along with the entire text of ‘I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day’, from Longfellow’s poem ‘Christmas Bells’). Their power will affect you deeply; and in our world of commonplace, numbing un-peace, we need the angels’ song to shock us out of our complacency.

This verse looks forward to a time when the world will be set right, in tune with the song of the angels, at peace. Imagine, a time when peace, personified, flings its splendors over the whole world; a time when warring and internal turmoil cease around the globe; a time when we mortals can forget our war-cries and shouts of hate and fear, and fill our mouths and hearts to echo back the peace song the angels have sung all along.

Lo, the days are hastening on…

...beside the weary road

O ye, beneath life's crushing load, whose forms are bending low,
Who toil along the climbing way, with painful steps and slow,
Look now, for glad and golden hours come swiftly on the wing:
O rest beside the weary road, and hear the angels sing!
---Edmund Sears, 1849

It's easy to do. Without even meaning to, you can fill up every little square in your planner this time of year, with 'have to's and 'want to's. You can fill it up until activities start leaking out the sides, dropping off the bottom, and being written over in darker pen. Some of the things you'll do will be important, make the world a better place. Some will just make your world a better place, and that's ok. Some of them, straight up honest, you might do just because someone else expects you to. There. Said that.

Add to that, the holidays aren't the kindest time of year for everyone. Every lost parent, sibling, or child; every family bent or broken, stretched into new shapes; every strained relationship or career disappointment seem magnified by the sparkle of lights, the constancy of piped-in carols, the over-sweet trays of goodies on every table, the smiling Christmas card faces.

Close your eyes, then. Imagine pulling to the shoulder of the hectic, crowded road. You know you are tired, exhausted even; it will be good to rest. You pull on your gloves and hat, and button up your coat to the top; dig the fleece blanket out of the back seat. Get out of the car now; climb up onto the hood, and wrap up. Then, just listen.

There's a song the angels are waiting to sing just for you.

The Weary Road

All ye, beneath life's crushing load, whose forms are bending low,
who toil along the climbing way with painful steps and slow,
look now! for glad and golden hours come swiftly on the wing;
O rest beside the weary road, and hear the angels sing.
--- Edmund Sears

This unfamiliar verse of the very familiar carol "It Came Upon a Midnight Clear" has always drawn my soul. We all read our lives into the songs we sing, I think, and I read mine into this verse. I have felt that this verse speaks to anyone dealing with a chronic condition, toiling sometimes with 'painful steps and slow'. This Advent, I feel it speaks to many, many of us, burdened with cares and sorrows beyond our comprehension. Who of us does not now feel crushed, stooped, weary of the pain of being human in a world full of humans?

But look! Ahead of us shine hours of ease and gladness, golden in their comfort. Some who know me may be saying, right about now, that it is not like me to talk about "pie in the sky, bye and bye", and you would be right. Stay with me. The genius in this verse, and in the grace offered us, is that the angels don't come like shiny aliens and whisk us away to a world where nothing matters anymore. No, the angels' song fills the skies over the weary road. Picture yourself, and me, all of us, laid out on the hoods of our cars, wrapped in fleece blankets against the December chill; and there, because we happen to be travelers on this weary road, we hear angels. Because life has led us here, where we are, how we are, dealing with what we must, we hear the angels sing.

Wouldn't miss it for the world.