His Glory

Our hearts for Christmas deeply yearn,
     For fire that burns,
     Does not consume,
Bursts forth in world, God’s holy bloom.
A bloom from Eden’s Garden parched
     To light our dark,
     Sprouts forth His seed
In Anna’s womb where Calvary bleeds. 

Her blue in union with His red
     Is raised from dead,
     Will purple form.
From womb to tomb new person born—
A birth of perfect man and Son,
     Begotten One
     Now condescends;
To Mary’s lap He here descends.

He comes to suckle at her breast,
     To take His rest
     In lap He made—
Brings forth His glory from Eve’s shade,
A shade removed in Second Eve
     Is His reprieve
     From Adam’s choice:
She answers “yes” with Mother’s voice.