Advent Rosary

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Dark Advent is a silent waiting time

When autumn chills into pale, year-end days

And joy seems smothered by hard-frosting rime:

Cold is the debt that spring to winter pays

 

The seasons link to seasons in a chain,

The chain of being that links, also, our souls,

Seasons and souls, not always without pain:

Summer’s wild lightning falls and thunder rolls.

 

Linked to us too, rose by mystical rose,

This holy Advent is Our Lady’s grace

To us who wait in exile sad; she knows

Where souls and seasons sing, the Night, the Place.

 

Seasons and souls, linked to days dreary-dim:

Follow them with roses to Bethlehem.

By Mack Hall

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