CHRISTMAS 2019

Selections from 2012...

What has inspired more poetry, music and art than a babe born in Bethlehem?

"Because of the tender mercy of our God

With which the Sunrise from on high shall visit us."

Luke 1:78

One of my favorite Victorian poets is Christina Rossetti.  She was born in 1830 to an Italian family who sought refuge in London, England, one of four siblings.  All were writers, and her brother Dante was a well-known artist who often used his beautiful sister as a subject.  Depression ran through her family, which she suffered as well while battling ill health.  Her father was a teacher at Kings College until his health failed.  Christina and her mother tried to run a school in their home, which they soon gave up.  Her mother secured a teaching job, and her sister became a governess.  Her brothers found other work along with their artistic endeavors.  

Christina was the most frail and wrote at home as part of an artist circle which included Whistler and Lewis Carol, friends of her brother's.  She was engaged three times, but broke it off due to religious reasons.  Christina was an evangelical Anglican and refused to marry a Catholic or non-Christian.  Her sister became an Anglican nun.  Christina volunteered at Charity House which helped former prostitutes.   She was an advocate for underaged girls caught up in the trade.  Many of her writings were for children, but here is one of my favorite Christmas carols of one of her poems set to music.

"Mid-Winter"

"In the bleak mid-winter

Frosty wind made moan,

Earth stood hard as iron,

Water like a stone;

Snow had fallen, snow on snow,

In the bleak mid-winter

Long ago.

Our God, heav'n cannot hold him

Nor earth sustain;

Heav'n and earth shall flee away

When he comes to reign;

In the bleak mid-winter

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 down before,

The ox and ass and camel

Which adore.

Angels and archangels

May have gathered there,

Cherubim and seraphim

Thronged the air:

Only his mother 

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 can I give him

Give my heart.