O night of wondrous mystery,
you enfold us in your treasured darkness.
O star of hope and longing,
you shine in our most simple sky.
O winter wind wailing,
you mingle with our sighs, our songs.
O heavenly choir, behind night’s deep curtain,
you draw your single breath.
O silence, rife with God,
we lean toward the musical pause.
O song, O throat of heaven,
you find your sweetest voice in us.
O nerve, you will with perfect will,
and we move, we know not how.
O holy child, in your becoming
we become.
O night of the unending unseen,
blossom in us slowly.
O star, so small and excellent,
shine in us as long as you need to.
— December 7, 2015