Agnes Maule Machar
DE PROFUNDIS: A CHRISTMAS CAROL
DARKLY the days drop towards the reddening West,
- Before the night beset with dreams of harm;
The Dove of Peace can find no place of rest,
- 'Mid surging seas of sorrow and alarm;
The pall of anguish spreads from West to East,
- Scarce can we trace the Christmas Star on high,
'Mid bitter stress and strain for man and beast
- That racks a mourning world while millions die.
In vain we seek a power that may withstand
- The stream of strife and slaughter spreading wide;
Nor prince nor prophet ventures to command
- The force resistless of that fearful tide.
Still, Lord, to Thee we turn—our hope alone—
- Thy power, set high, all others far above;
We come for refuge to Thy Cross and Throne:
- Our trust, Thy strength, Thy wisdom and Thy love.
What though, amid the trouble and the fear,
- The war-worn peoples ask if Christ is dead;
Though Faith grow faint because she will not hear
- The voice of Him who is 'the Living Bread?'
Still stands He with us, as He stood of old
- Before the men who made their market-place
Within the Temple courts, where lust of gold
- Obscured the glory of His Father's face.
And lo! the Christmas Star, whose beacon high
- Led Eastern sages all their desert way,
Shines forth once more to bless the Christmas sky
- With hope and promise of the coming day.
O stricken nations, that in darkness pine
- Amid the deepening shades of Death and Night,
Awake to kneel before the Babe Divine
- And hail the spreading of His 'Glorious Light!'
What though all earthly lights may fail and wane,
- Though War his deadly harvest garner in;
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