'The days are evil looking back,
The coming days are dim.'
This Advent moon shines cold and clear,
These Advent nights are long;
Our lamps have burned year after year
And still their flame is strong.
'Watchman, what of the night?' we cry,
Heart-sick with hope deferred:
'No speaking signs are in the sky,'
Is still the watchman's word.
The Porter watches at the gate,
The servants watch within;
The watch is long betimes and late,
The prize is slow to win.
'Watchman, what of the night?' But still
His answer sounds the same:
'No daybreak tops the utmost hill,
Nor pale our lamps of flame.'
One to another hear them speak
The patient virgins wise:
'Surely He is not far to seek' –
'All night we watch and rise.'
'Yet count we not His promise slack,
But watch and wait for Him.'
And He shall judge the Gentiles and rebuke many people: and they shall turn their swords into ploughshares, and their spears into sickles. Nation shall not lift up sword against nation: neither shall they be exercised any more to war. O house of Jacob, come ye, and let us walk in the light of the Lord our God.
How upsetting it is to see some politicians of both parties eagerly foment hostility and aggression in far corners of the world.
We need to go to war with Ireland to settle up for past wrongs
Apparently, we have already taken over your church and remade it in our own image, so it looks like you already lost.
or is that 'All your basses are belong to us?
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