18 Days of Christmas - The Seventh Day

From now until Christmas day I am treating you to foisting upon you our collection of Christmas poems. If I made our cards that year I'll post a picture of that as well. If you missed yesterday's poem, click on the 18 Days of Christmas button in my sidebar. The way you can tell who wrote which poem is to note whose name is listed first at the end. Have you noticed yet that when Dr. M was the primary author I don't have much to say about the poem. Apparently I never asked his motivations at the time, & goodness knows we probably wouldn't remember now!

My life goes on in endless song,
A perverse lamentation.
I hear the real, though far-off hymn
That hails the new creation.

Far off, distant, beyond:
Divine clockmaker, piecing
Together our universe, setting
All in motion, then hiding?

How strange to build
A clock so grand
And not attend the grains
Of sand as we pass through.

Yet, still, it rings: Creation’s song.
Listen! Ere long you will hear it:
A song, carried by the wind.
Did it all begin with God singing?

And look, there, low
In the twilit sky, a strange new star
Signals us with its twinkling light;
We must not fight its call.

But where, how long?
The song does not say.
It only beckons:
Come, follow me and see.

And so we walk, alone, but lonely
No longer, for the song and the light
Grow stronger and brighter
With each passing day.

I think, this time,
We might find the long-awaited gift:
The Promised One whose love
Will lift our hearts and souls to God.

Above the tumult and the strife,
I hear its music ringing!
It sounds an echo in my soul.
How can I keep from singing?

Mike & Dana Rhyne
Christmas 1998