The wise men look no more toward the star;
The shepherds, all, are blinded in its light;
The herald-song is silenced by the jar
Of sudden death's triumphant scream. The blight
That will dwarf little children yet unborn,
Drops from the skies and lurks beneath the seas,
While venomed hate, this very Christmas morn,
Cankers the heart of nations, like disease.
A mockery in churches now is sung
Of Him, who taught the ways of peace, good will;
Rachel, again, is made to mourn her young
By Herods, who deny Him, as they kill--
Foul stench of war in smokes that reek and blur--
His gifts today--His frankincense and myrrh!
--December 25, 1941
I have this feeling like when you die, G.A. Compton will be right there looking forward to greeting you! You guys could talk and talk.
ReplyDeleteThat is a bold poem.
I agree with John. Your Great-Great Uncle Barry and you would have some excellent discussions.
ReplyDeleteThe symbolism of the frankincense and myrrh in his poem is touching here. Those two spices were used in Jesus's day to treat the body in death. They were given to Jesus as gifts by the Magi to foretell His difficult and untimely death; yet a death that was perfectly in tune with God's timing.