A Christmas Song

O hear a quiet mystery in Bethlehem tonight:
A shepherd’s song is rising at the fading of the light.
The Seraphim are joining him as Heaven shines around,
And Cherubs veil their faces at the power of the sound:
The Godhead takes on flesh today, High God becomes a man,
To raise the lowly to a love that was ere time began.

O see a mighty wonder dawn for Israel today:
Mere earth is consecrated in a heavenly array
Of glory that its nature never fully could behold
As earth’s relentless tarnish sweeps away in shining gold
That all who are, are newborn, and become what they were not
In praise of new Humanity that changeless God hath wrought.

O know a trembling silence that comes over us withal:
To comprehend a holy God who enters sinners’ thrall,
By whose resplendent Spirit the young virgin is with child,
That ruined flesh with sinless splendor might be reconciled,
And thrones and dominations be cast down in awestruck fear
To venerate the Lord of Lords who lies an infant here.

O think on this great paradox that strikes us with its light:
That Nature in her Sabbath-rest has bowed her head to night,
While God’s Only Begotten has bestowed on us His face
And Death and Hell are shattered at the crux of time and space
Where love and justice meet and kiss, the shadow of a Cross:
His outstretched arms and heart uplifted gain us with His loss.

(To Him it was no lowering to put on what He made
Nor thought He of equality with God when Heaven stayed
To tabernacle with us here, and wrap Himself around
With garments of the dust of earth, in mystery profound
That flesh corruptible should not decay, nor condescend
His Spirit to the sting of Death and fail to see its end.)

O feel the sudden rush of marvel at His plaintive cry
Who framed the universe’s beams, and measured with His eye
The ocean’s soundless deeps, to scale the stormy heights of cloud
And fix the stars in firmament to blazing sun enshroud.
Is He who breaks our bitter chains imprisoned in a cell
Of infant frailty? Then He surely can with mortals dwell.

O touch His trembling hands, and see His lowered eyelids now
Who one dark Day will have them pierced by nails, and on His brow
The crown of thorns will cry to all around: “Here is the King
Whose Kingdom is not of this world, and He will surely bring
All those who trust in Him to everlasting life, that they
Should be redeemed from Death’s domain and live in endless Day.”

O taste of this rich Bread, my soul, and of this Wine drink deep:
The true flesh of the Son of God, who loving bids you keep
The Feast of Passover—yet not the beast that Moses slayed—
He is the Lamb who ransomed us a people to be made
A chosen race, that by His blood the living waters take
A draft of life eternal so the drought of death to break.

O sing a Christmas song! Rejoice that on this blessed night
Our Savior came to rescue us, commingling with our plight
That Life that flesh became—but was already God—and laid
At Mary’s breast, became the Food to nourish all God made
To trust in Him beyond what mind portend, or eye can see,
By faith to Father, Son, and Holy Ghost our worship be.

Advent, 2025
Jeremy Vogan
Inspiration from a Christmas Homily by John Chrysostom, 386 AD
Artwork Credit: Elena Nadal, Navidad