In The Bleak Midwinter

It's Christmas today, and I am joyful. I count my blessings, and quickly run out of tally-marks. I sleep with a clear conscience about the practice of my calling, my profession, my gifts. And all that despite what has probably been the most stricken Christmas I've had for a long while. It takes a lot of patience to continue holding on against the madness of crowds; I can only thank God that my weakness is occasion for His strength. And so I leave you with two pieces, both of which speak to me of the heart, of healing, of hope and high honour. The first is Christina Rossetti's In The Bleak Midwinter; the second is the ancient traditional carol, The Holly And The Ivy.

In the bleak midwinter, 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 midwinter, 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 midwinter a stable place sufficed
The Lord God Almighty, Jesus Christ.

Enough for Him, whom cherubim, worship night and day,
Breastful of milk, and a mangerful of hay;
Enough for Him, whom angels fall before,
The ox and ass and camel which adore.

Angels 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.

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The Holly and the Ivy
Now both are full well grown,
Of all the trees that are in the wood,
The Holly bears the crown.

Refrain:

O the rising of the sun,
The running of the deer,
The playing of the merry organ,
Sweet singing in the choir,
Sweet singing in the choir.

The Holly bears a blossom,
As white as lily-flower;
And Mary bore sweet Jesus Christ,
To be our sweet Saviour.

Refrain

The Holly bears a berry,
As red as any blood;
And Mary bore sweet Jesus Christ,
To do poor sinners good.

Refrain

The Holly bears a prickle,
As sharp as any thorn;
And Mary bore sweet Jesus Christ,
On Christmas Day in the morn.

Refrain

The Holly bears a bark,
As bitter as any gall;
And Mary bore sweet Jesus Christ,
For to redeem us all.

Refrain

The Holly and the Ivy
Now both are full well grown,
Of all the trees that are in the wood,
The Holly bears the crown.

Refrain

Midwinter

Over the years, I've consciously and deliberately attempted to immunise my brain against illusions. However, since 1995 or thereabouts, the amount of research on the way the human brain works has expanded vastly. We now know so much about the way the brain works that illusion and reality are more and more coterminous. It is all rather vexing at times.

For example, check out the illusions linked here. I suppose people like Speedcuber will want to try at least one of the phenomena out, if he hasn't already.

Optics and midwinter — the two are so very similar in so many ways. Can you think of some?

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And of course, what would life be without poetry? Here is one of my favourite carols. Christina Rossetti's In The Bleak Midwinter is one of those rare pieces which is cold, warm, bleak, elevating, and evocative of both cheer and tears all at once. Enjoy!

In the bleak midwinter, 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 midwinter, 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 midwinter a stable place sufficed
The Lord God Almighty, Jesus Christ.

Enough for Him, Whom cherubim, worship night and day,
Breastful of milk, and a mangerful of hay;
Enough for Him, Whom angels fall before,
The ox and ass and camel which adore.

Angels 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.

Ah... poets should write more songs.