Andrew's Sermons

A 'found' poem based on the readings, carols and poems at the Carol Service at St Cyr's Church Stinchcombe. December 18th 2022. Mary the mother mild. Jesus her little child, the spirit of the lord upon him, with wisdom and knowledge, so vast as waters cover the sea. Peace in impossible things, thundering unthinkable wings, round an incredible star, which led, with joy at its beaming bright, its joy, its crown, that we may evermore be led to thee. The son of God, he will be, in whom nothing is impossible, a servant, I am, said she, according to your word. It couldn’t be so! But it was merry! Very! Perhaps it means a little bit more and so we, and they, all gathered, saints before the altar bending, to worship Christ the new-born king, wrapped in bands of cloth, in a manger, through there being no room in the inn. For He had seen, a scorched land, shadows, people waiting, arms outstretched, let me go there, he had said. How silently he did, to that lit