An Adoration

from The Holy Merriment

By Arnold Kenseth

In this snowfall season the birth
O God’s furious and tender Son
Gives us our holy days by fire. Earth
Cradles once more the hope that Eve
And her winter children will receive
The sunlit garden; because fear
Has no room in our Saviour’s castle.

All love shepherds us. The pagent kings
Weep for us. In argent rings
Heaven’s wild gabriels wrestle
For our very souls. What stables here
Is time for us to give our sin
The shape of kneeling, to perch seven
Times seventy singing robins

Of forgiveness on our tongues,
Blessing our enemies, that the bones
Which we have broken may rejoice.
No one is lost, not one, who yields
Himself to Christmas. The red ribbons
Of his grief adorn us. The voice
Of his mercy is heard in our fields.