Advent Sunday, and we sing the Advent Prose, a fourth century reworking of texts from the prophecy of Isaiah which looks for coming of light and the blessing of righteousness and peace breaking like the dawn at the furthest, darkest edge of Black Friday. Drop down ye heavens, from above, and let the skies pour down righteousness: Be not wroth very sore, O Lord, neither remember iniquity for ever: the holy cities are a wilderness, Sion is a wilderness, Jerusalem a desolation: our holy and our beautiful house, where our fathers praised thee. We have sinned, and are as an unclean thing, and we all do fade as a leaf: and our iniquities, like the wind, have taken us away; thou hast hid thy face from us: and hast consumed us, because of our iniquities. Behold, O Lord, the affliction of thy people and send forth Him who is to come send forth the Lamb, the ruler of the earth from Petra of the desert to the mount of the daughter of Sion that He may take away the yoke of our captivity Ye are my witnesses, saith the Lord, and my servant whom I have chosen; that ye may know me and believe me: I, even I, am the Lord, and beside me there is no Savior: and there is none that can deliver out of my hand. Comfort ye, comfort ye, my people, my salvation shall not tarry: why wilt thou waste away in sadness? why hath sorrow seized thee? Fear not, for I will save thee: for I am the Lord thy God, the Holy One of Israel, thy Redeemer. Drop down ye heavens from above youtube/watch?v=f06qdhO_sEY
Posted on: Sun, 30 Nov 2014 06:43:06 +0000
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