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A carol that pulls no punches

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Yesterday Erinn and I, along with our dear friend Sam, sang Christmas carols for “Jane”, a Dale friend I’ve blogged about here. Jane has been living in a long term care facility for the last four years after suffering a major stroke. She hasn’t spoken, eaten solid food, or moved the right side of her body for those four years.

When I first started going to see her, Jane would weep with tears that communicated that she recognized me. Over the years, there have been fewer indications that Jane knows who I am, or if our visits make a difference to her. But when the three of us walked through the door yesterday, Jane started to weep again. Throughout our visit she would calm down, then start to cry again We held her hand, sang carols to her, and prayed for her before we left. It was so sad, and I think it was also very good.

I can’t imagine what Jane has endured these last four years, spending every moment in her bed, unable to communicate. But I can guess that of all the carols that we sang, It Came Upon a Midnight Clear rang the most true, especially verse 4. If you’ve never really absorbed these lyrics (as I hadn’t until this year), I invite you to read them all:

It came upon the midnight clear,
That glorious song of old,
From angels bending near the earth,
To touch their harps of gold:
“Peace on the earth, goodwill to men,
From heaven’s all-gracious King.”
The world in solemn stillness lay,
To hear the angels sing.
Still through the cloven skies they come,
With peaceful wings unfurled,
And still their heavenly music floats
O’er all the weary world;
Above its sad and lowly plains,
They bend on hovering wing,
And ever o’er its babel sounds
The bless├Ęd angels sing.
Yet with the woes of sin and strife
The world has suffered long;
Beneath the angel-strain have rolled
Two thousand years of wrong;
And man, at war with man, hears not
The love-song which they bring;
O hush the noise, ye men of strife,
And hear the angels sing.
And 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.
O rest beside the weary road,
And hear the angels sing!
For lo!, the days are hastening on,
By prophet bards foretold,
When with the ever-circling years
Comes round the age of gold
When peace shall over all the earth
Its ancient splendors fling,
And the whole world give back the song
Which now the angels sing.

 

This has become my favourite carol, because it pulls no punches. It acknowledges that life is hard, and that we are in desperate need of peace. May Jane, and all of us, know deep hope in the midst of this weary world.

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