After reading Psalms 119:145-152
| Promises ring through the night, like owls, good-haunting the wise, echoing through forests of days, promises--what moonlight can’t shoo away. Wicked schemes may feel so near, yet far away are they from the clear conscience that is succored by law of the Lord, written in stone. Stone, and yet made flesh in us, we who grow, from wee to grown up. Commandment has ne’er been so sweet as the one to love God, each being. Promises ring Christmas Eve, about the Babe; t’would be bittersweet but for Mary’s submitted, sweet smile telling us, “Celebrate for a while.” Promises that what angels shouted, “Gloria!”, would match another day's trumpets to accompany acclamations when hosts return, and with the Christ come! |
