The face of day is darkened in this wilderness -
The earth, from a curse is barren of lasting happiness;
While these black clouds are hanging here so low,
From toil and strife we’ll never respite know…
Across the great river, there is not a shadow of gloom
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Then,
It was a little toy robot,
As a boy, I coveted so much,
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Down in the valley of ash and bone
Zion’s hope was worn with chagrin,
Until, on those who sat in darkness, light shone;
Jesse’s stump had budded once again!
… He was a gifted rabbi for sure
And did such miracles none had ever seen,
Yet they could see neither king nor savior
In this most humble Nazarene.
Stringed with so many unsuccessful resolutions and strained with so very demanding wishes, stretched with several uncertain anticipations and chequered with diverse experiences, hard-used and expired, an old year passes out of our lives. Determined to bid it a “stamp-out” goodbye with all it’s staleness, and forcefully catapult themselves to a new world full of freshness, men’s psyches can get quite adventurous in trying to testify of something it can’t tangibly feel.
