So comes the clear and cold and weather wintry,
To cast in stark relief the trees against the sky,
Reviving long forgotten lacy beauty,
Submerged before the leaves of Autumn fall to die.
So need we really find it all so odd,
That when some dark and wintry burden comes around,
Some comepensating gracious gift of God,
Some darker beauty, silent joy, strange hope is found.
An ancient instinct knew to call for song,
Amid the chilling deep December cold,
To tell again that in the deepest wrong,
Eternal love still lives as surely as of old.
For ancient Babe came not to candlelight,
Was welcomed not by soft and sentimental glow,
His love he lived into the darkest night,
Held fast against life's eerie ebb and flow.
So seek to make your season what you want,
Pile high the joys and sing the songs you should,
Remember tho', should feast be as you planned
Or not, your God is there and life is ever good.
-- Gilbert W. Bowen, D. Min.