Chaos Manor View, Thursday, December 24, 2015
It came upon a midnight clear,
That glorious song of old,
From angels bending near the earth
To touch their harps of gold!
“Peace on the earth, good will to men,
From heaven’s all gracious King!
The world in solemn stillness lay
To hear the angels sing.
Still through the cloven skies they come
With peaceful wings unfurled
And still their heavenly music floats
O’er all the weary world;
Above its sad and lowly plains
They bend on hovering wing.
And ever o’er its Babel sounds
The blessed angels sing.
Yet with the woes of sin and strife
The world hath suffered long;
Beneath the angel-strain have rolled
Two thousand years of wrong;
And man, at war with man, hears not
The love song which they bring:
O hush the noise, ye men of strife,
And hear the angels sing.
For lo! the days are hastening on,
By prophet bards foretold,
When, with the ever-circling years,
Shall come the Age of Gold;
When peace shall over all the earth
Its ancient splendors fling,
And all the world give back the song
Which now the angels sing.
We can hope so, anyway. God bless you all.
And a special Merry Christmas to all on deployment, and to all who sit in ready alert rooms, or deep underground in silos, or under the sea in submarines, on watch in warships or in fire stations, on patrol or watch in cities and towns and in the country. Thanks to you the rest of us can sleep tonight. God bless you, every one.
Freedom is not free. Free men are not equal. Equal men are not free.