The warm sun caresses the frosty face
that has long kept watch in the winter night
with a light that feels like a long summer love
though the season has passed as day to night.
How treacherous the promise of lasting warmth
that is made at the break of the awaited day,
but the noon always comes and the sun soon sets;
our hopes are broken as the blue skies grey.
In the coming dark, cold armies of fear
besiege in their ranks and our watch must be set:
first, second, third, fourth, but none sleep with ease
for who rests in such coldness
and yet...
There is a light that shines outside of time,
in spite of days, years and ice-ages;
a warmth that burns in the cold without fuel,
without flicker though the storm about rages.
We shall not wait for the slow coming dawn.
We shall not cry in the night when its cold -
not stumble, not fear, but sleep in sure peace
when the warmth of the light of the Lord
makes us bold.
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