O Come, O Come

"The nights are long," she said.

And they are.

Poets speak of the long night of the soul, times of darkness and sorrow. And yet, waiting.

"My soul waits for the Lord, more than watchmen for the morning, more than watchmen for the morning."

The morning comes. A pale light brightens barren branches and illuminates the solid contours of the earth, harkening newness, hope, and life.

"His mercies are new every morning."

There are seasons of life, of our spirits, that are cold, lonely and obscured. Sometimes we try and cannot see, while other times we are too exhausted to open our weary eyes. Sometimes we cry out to the Lord, while other times we cannot muster a whisper of a prayer. We are quiet, still, despairing, hopeful-like the Israelites of old.

O come, O come, Emmanuel,
And ransom captive Israel,
That mourns in lonely exile here
Until the Son of God appear.

Rejoice! Rejoice!
Emmanuel shall come to thee, O Israel.

O come, Thou Wisdom from on high,
Who orderest all things mightily;
To us the path of knowledge show,
And teach us in her ways to go.

O come, Thou Rod of Jesse, free
Thine own from Satan’s tyranny;
From depths of hell Thy people save,
And give them victory over the grave.

O come, Thou Day-spring, come and cheer
Our spirits by Thine advent here;
Disperse the gloomy clouds of night,
And death’s dark shadows put to flight.

O come, Thou Key of David, come,
And open wide our heavenly home;
Make safe the way that leads on high,
And close the path to misery.

O come, O come, great Lord of might,
Who to Thy tribes on Sinai’s height
In ancient times once gave the law
In cloud and majesty and awe.

O come, Thou Root of Jesse’s tree,
An ensign of Thy people be;
Before Thee rulers silent fall;
All peoples on Thy mercy call.

O come, Desire of nations, bind
In one the hearts of all mankind;
Bid Thou our sad divisions cease,
And be Thyself our King of Peace.

O Come, O Come Emmanuel.