Underneath the merriment of Christmas, a melancholy stream flows like a river. It isn't simply feelings of nostalgia or the holiday blues; it's the art of the imponderable--- the unsearchable sorrow of God-in-flesh coming to die for the sins of the world.
If we miss this feeling, somehow we’ve missed Christmas.
I think the very oldest hymns of Christmas best open our hearts to these bittersweet feelings of wonder. To be sober by the truth that Jesus Christ, chose to live and die miserably to pay the wages of our sins ( Romans 6:23)
That’s why I thank Booksneeze for giving me a book to hear once again the solemn strains of ancient canticles of Christmas hymns. "Then sings my soul" by Robert Morgan is a must read book.
Much love, ♥