The below stanza of "It Came Upon a Midnight Clear" is kicking my sorry-for-myself-life's-so-hard behind. I'll bet, on the first Christmas night, all worries and chatter ceased when an army of angels broke through the pristine winter night to put sound to glory. No matter how burdensome life was, Christ's first breath signaled hope for glad and golden hours. He is coming, He is here. Maybe it is true that God puts truth in the mouths of men. Maybe He does look for various ways to remind us when we've forgotten.
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;
Oh rest beside the weary road
And hear the angels sing.
Who toil along the climbing way
With painful steps and slow;
Look now, for glad and golden hours
Come swiftly on the wing;
Oh rest beside the weary road
And hear the angels sing.
This version of the song is my choice this season. And yes, I'm listening to it now -- five whole days before Thanksgiving.
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