An Old Hymn

The words to an old hymn came to me this morning. Look past the layers of years and past the 'gender exclusive' language to find the gentle strength and promise of these words.

O Brother Man


O brother man, 
fold to thy heart thy brother; 
Where pity dwells, 
the peace of God is there; 
To worship rightly is to love each other, 
Each smile a hymn, each kindly deed a prayer... 


Then shall all shackles fall; 
the stormy clangor of wild war music o'er the earth shall cease; 
Love shall tread out the baleful fire of anger, 
And in its ashes plant the tree of peace. 


John Greenleaf Whittler, 1848

Epiphany!

"The Child we seek doesn't need our gold. On love, on love alone he will build his kin(g)dom. His pierc'ed hand will hold no scepter, his haloed head will wear no crown; his might will not be built on your toil. Swifter than lightning he will soon walk among us. He will bring us new life and receive our death, and the keys to his city belong to the poor."  from Amahl and the Night Visitors by Gian Carlo Menotti