Something about this seems sacred to me.
For Prozac Monologues readers whatever your state this holiday.
In the bleak mid-winter frosty wind made moan,
Earth stood hard as iron, water like a stone;
Snow had fallen, snow on snow, snow on snow,
In the bleak mid-winter long ago.
Our God, Heaven cannot hold Him, nor earth sustain;
Heaven and earth shall flee away when He comes to reign.
In the bleak mid-winter a stable place sufficed
The Lord God Almighty Jesus Christ.
Angles and archangels may have gathered there,
Cherubim and seraphim thronged the air,
But his mother only in her maiden bliss
Worshipped the Beloved with a kiss.
What can I give Him, poor as I am? If I were a shepherd, I would bring a lamb,
If I were a Wise Man, I would do my part, –
Yet what I can I give Him, give my heart.
poem by Christina Rossetti, 1872 painting by Ivan Shishkin, 1890
In the bleak mid-winter frosty wind made moan,
Earth stood hard as iron, water like a stone;
Snow had fallen, snow on snow, snow on snow,
In the bleak mid-winter long ago.
Our God, Heaven cannot hold Him, nor earth sustain;
Heaven and earth shall flee away when He comes to reign.
In the bleak mid-winter a stable place sufficed
The Lord God Almighty Jesus Christ.
Angles and archangels may have gathered there,
Cherubim and seraphim thronged the air,
But his mother only in her maiden bliss
Worshipped the Beloved with a kiss.
What can I give Him, poor as I am? If I were a shepherd, I would bring a lamb,
If I were a Wise Man, I would do my part, –
Yet what I can I give Him, give my heart.
poem by Christina Rossetti, 1872 painting by Ivan Shishkin, 1890
I've seen this before,and I know what you mean about feeling sacred. I was so impressed with Jill Bolte Taylor and her journey.
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