General Chat

A lovely sound:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wKS0GngztOo

David Bowie and Bing Crosby - Little Drummer Boy

Thank you for this thread Joy, it's lovely.

This was one of my Dad's favourites:

Brightest and best of the sons of the morning,
Dawn on our darkness and lend us Thine aid,
Star of the East, our horizon adorning,
Guide where our infant redeemer is laid.

Cold on his Cradle the dewdrops are shining;
Low lies His head with the beasts of the stall;
Angels adore Him in slumber reclining,
Maker and Monarch and Saviour of all!

Say, shall we yield Him, in costly devotion,
Odors of Edom and offerings divine?
Gems of the mountain and pearls of the ocean,
Myrrh from the forest, or gold from the mine?

Vainly we offer each ample oblation,
Vainly with gifts would His favour secure;
Richer by far is the heart's adoration,
Dearer to God are the prayers of the poor.

I've really enjoyed reading this thread, it has brought back so many happy childhood memories. The following two poems, however, relate to the regret of the loss of childhood innocence and certainty:

The Oxen (Thomas Hardy)

Christmas Eve, and twelve of the clock.
"Now they are all on their knees,"
An elder said as we sat in a flock
By the embers in hearthside ease.

We pictured with meek mild creatures where
They dwelt in their strawy pen.
Nor did occur to one of us there
To doubt they were kneeling then.

So fair a fancy few would weave
In these years! Yet, I feel,
If someone said on Christmas Eve,
"Come see the oxen kneel,

In the lonely barton by yonder coombe
Our childhood used to know."
I should go with him into the gloom
Hoping it my be so.



I Believe in Father Christmas (Lake & Sinfield)

They said they'll be snow at Christmas;
They said they'll be peace on earth,
But, instead it just kept on raining
A veil of tears for the virgin birth.
I remember one Christmas morning;
A winter's light, and a distant choir;
And the peal of a bell, and that Christmas tree smell,
And their eyes full of tinsel and fire.

They sold me a dream of Christmas;
They sold me a silent night,
And they told me a fairy story,
'Til I believed in the Israel light.
And I believed in father Christmas,
And I looked at the sky with excited eyes
'Til I woke with a yawn, in the first light of dawn,
And I saw him, and through his disguise.

I wish you a hopeful Christmas;
I wish you a great new year.
All anguish, pain, and sadness
Leave your heart and let your road be clear.
They said they'll be snow at Christmas;
They said they'll be peace on earth.
Hallelujah Noel, be it heaven or hell,
The Christmas you get you deserve.

Thank you, Fiona :-)

Joy,

So pleased to see that people are enjoying the thread, saw the first part of The Nativity on BBC 1 this evening it was lovely.

Awdrey.

Awdrey - I saw it, too :-)

I liked the way that the programme is following more people, not just Mary and Joseph.

And I liked the review of 'The Nativity' in the Telegraph, particularly
" ... I want people who have no particular faith, who don’t watch the God Channels, to watch this nativity. And if they have faith, to reinforce it. And if they haven’t, to make them think, ‘Wow, I don’t know, maybe… ’”

'Do You Hear What I Hear?'
Said the night wind to the little lamb,
"Do you see what I see?
Way up in the sky, little lamb,
Do you see what I see?
A star, a star, dancing in the night
With a tail as big as a kite,
With a tail as big as a kite."

Said the little lamb to the shepherd boy,
"Do you hear what I hear?
Ringing through the sky, shepherd boy,
Do you hear what I hear?
A song, a song high above the trees
With a voice as big as the sea,
With a voice as big as the sea."

Said the shepherd boy to the mighty king,
"Do you know what I know?
In your palace warm, mighty king,
Do you know what I know?
A Child, a Child shivers in the cold--
Let us bring him silver and gold,
Let us bring him silver and gold."

Said the king to the people everywhere,
"Listen to what I say!
Pray for peace, people, everywhere,
Listen to what I say!
The Child, the Child sleeping in the night
He will bring us goodness and light,
He will bring us goodness and light."

A very gentle nudge please

Thank you
xx

Advent 1955
by
John Betjeman


The Advent wind begins to stir
With sea-like sounds in our Scotch fir,
It's dark at breakfast, dark at tea,
And in between we only see
Clouds hurrying across the sky
And rain-wet roads the wind blows dry
And branches bending to the gale
Against great skies all silver pale
The world seems travelling into space,
And travelling at a faster pace
Than in the leisured summer weather
When we and it sit out together,
For now we feel the world spin round
On some momentous journey bound -
Journey to what? to whom? to where?
The Advent bells call out 'Prepare,
Your world is journeying to the birth
Of God made Man for us on earth.'

And how, in fact, do we prepare
The great day that waits us there -
For the twenty-fifth day of December,
The birth of Christ? For some it means
An interchange of hunting scenes
On coloured cards, And I remember
Last year I sent out twenty yards,
Laid end to end, of Christmas cards
To people that I scarcely know -
They'd sent a card to me, and so
I had to send one back. Oh dear!
Is this a form of Christmas cheer?
Or is it, which is less surprising,
My pride gone in for advertising?
The only cards that really count
Are that extremely small amount
From real friends who keep in touch
And are not rich but love us much
Some ways indeed are very odd
By which we hail the birth of God.

We raise the price of things in shops,
We give plain boxes fancy tops
And lines which traders cannot sell
Thus parcell'd go extremely well
We dole out bribes we call a present
To those to whom we must be pleasant
For business reasons. Our defence is
These bribes are charged against expenses
And bring relief in Income Tax
Enough of these unworthy cracks!
'The time draws near the birth of Christ'.
A present that cannot be priced
Given two thousand years ago
Yet if God had not given so
He still would be a distant stranger
And not the Baby in the manger.

1. O come, all ye faithful, Joyful and triumphant,
O Come ye, O come ye, to Bethlehem.
Come and behold Him, Born the King of angels;

Refrain
O come, let us adore Him,
O come, let us adore Him,
O come, let us adore Him,
Christ the Lord.

2. God of God, Light of Light,
Lo! he abhors not the Virgin’s womb;
Very God, Begotten not created.
Chorus

3. Sing, choirs of angels, Sing in exultation;
Sing, all ye citizens of heaven above!
Glory to God, In the highest;
Chorus

4. Yea, Lord, we greet Thee, Born this happy morning;
Jesu, to Thee be glory given;
Word of the Father, Now in flesh appearing.
Chorus

Dear All

Hello

Hope you are okay.

This is a special favourite:

"When the Christmas candles are burned ut,
the carols have died away,
the star is set,
all the radiant song-filled night has passed,

Thou alone, the Eternal, remains,
and Thou art enough.

Remain in us,
more beautiful,
more beloved,
more real than any of the romance that clusters around Thy birthday"


Take gentle care
Very sincere wishes
xx

Advent Sunday

For those in the USA:
http://www.timeanddate.com/holidays/us/first-sunday-advent
First Sunday Advent in United States

Nudge x

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Advent

This article is about the Western Christian practice. For Eastern Christian practice, see Nativity Fast.

Advent calendars begin on December 1 :)

http://www.hymns.me.uk/o-morning-star-hymn.htm

O Morning Star, how fair and bright!
Thou beamest forth in truth and light,
O Sovereign meek and lowly!
Thou Root of Jesse, David’s Son,
My Lord and Master, Thou hast won
My heart to serve Thee solely!
Thou art holy,
Fair and glorious, all victorious, rich in blessing
Rule and might over all possessing.

Thou heavenly Brightness! Light divine!
O deep within my heart now shine,
And make Thee there an altar!
Fill me with joy and strength to be
Thy member, ever, joined to Thee
In love that cannot falter;
Toward Thee longing
Doth possess me; turn and bless me; here in sadness
Eye and heart long for Thy gladness!

"Nudge x"
:)



http://www.crivoice.org/cyadvent.html
Advent is the beginning of the Church Year for most churches in the Western tradition. It begins on the fourth Sunday before Christmas Day, which is the Sunday nearest November 30, and ends on Christmas Eve (Dec 24). If Christmas Eve is a Sunday, it is counted as the fourth Sunday of Advent, with Christmas Eve proper beginning at sundown.

Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St Nicholas soon would be there.

The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads.
And mamma in her ‘kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled our brains for a long winter’s nap.

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh, and eight tinny reindeer.

With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St Nick.
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name!

"Now Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen!
On, Comet! On, Cupid! on, on Donner and Blitzen!
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!"

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky.
So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,
With the sleigh full of Toys, and St Nicholas too.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the chimney St Nicholas came with a bound.

He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot.
A bundle of Toys he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a peddler, just opening his pack.

His eyes-how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow.

The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath.
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook when he laughed, like a bowlful of jelly!

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself!
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the stockings, then turned with a jerk.
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose!

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ‘ere he drove out of sight,
"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!"

Christmas by John Betjeman

The bells of waiting Advent ring,
The Tortoise stove is lit again
And lamp-oil light across the night
Has caught the streaks of winter rain
In many a stained-glass window sheen
From Crimson Lake to Hookers Green.

The holly in the windy hedge
And round the Manor House the yew
Will soon be stripped to deck the ledge,
The altar, font and arch and pew,
So that the villagers can say
'The church looks nice' on Christmas Day.

Provincial Public Houses blaze,
Corporation tramcars clang,
On lighted tenements I gaze,
Where paper decorations hang,
And bunting in the red Town Hall
Says 'Merry Christmas to you all'.

And London shops on Christmas Eve
Are strung with silver bells and flowers
As hurrying clerks the City leave
To pigeon-haunted classic towers,
And marbled clouds go scudding by
The many-steepled London sky.

And girls in slacks remember Dad,
And oafish louts remember Mum,
And sleepless children's hearts are glad.
And Christmas-morning bells say 'Come!'
Even to shining ones who dwell
Safe in the Dorchester Hotel.

And is it true,
This most tremendous tale of all,
Seen in a stained-glass window's hue,
A Baby in an ox's stall ?
The Maker of the stars and sea
Become a Child on earth for me ?

And is it true ? For if it is,
No loving fingers tying strings
Around those tissued fripperies,
The sweet and silly Christmas things,
Bath salts and inexpensive scent
And hideous tie so kindly meant,

No love that in a family dwells,
No carolling in frosty air,
Nor all the steeple-shaking bells
Can with this single Truth compare -
That God was man in Palestine
And lives today in Bread and Wine.

Christingle

http://www.request.org.uk/main/festivals/christmas/christingle/christingle04.htm