I’ve always loved the music of Christmas. Through the centuries it seems that the finest talents of musicians and poets have been focused on the celebration of our Lord’s birth.
The simple carols outlive the proverbial cat, taking on new lives with each succeeding generation and lifting our hearts with the re-birth of each song to new levels of worship and devotion.
In each innovative version of a carol, however, the genius of the carol survives unchanged in the majestic musical theme and in the inspired statement of eternal truth.
How could anybody improve, for instance, on the wording Phillips Brooks penned in the third verse of “O Little Town”?
How silently, how silently,
The wondrous gift is giv’n!
So God imparts to human hearts
The blessings of His heav’n;
No ear may hear His coming;
But in this world of sin,
Where meek souls will receive Him, still
The dear Christ enters in.
The Lord has always come in this fashion. Elijah discerned God not in the earthquake, not in the typhoon, not in the firestorm, but in the still, hushed whisper which reminded the old prophet of the duty he was neglecting.
It is still as true today as it was when our Lord invaded
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No one, that is, except the widow whose dreadful loneliness is lifted by the loving note which simply says, “I love you.”
No one except the hospice patient whose struggle with death is eased by a volunteer’s quiet prayer.
Silently unseen by media lights or spectacle addicts the blessings of heaven come into our lives. The gentle One who in His ministry would not break a bruised reed or quench smoking flax still waits for our bidding to work His will in us.
“No ear may hear His coming,” the carol reminds us, but He tip toes through the door of our hearts when we say, “Come in.”