Come, o come, Emmanuel
to this earthly heaven,
this earthly hell
Come, o come, Emmanuel
on winter mornings when
feet are cold
and in big box stores
where souls are sold
where walls are high and
hopes are low
where old eyes and feet
must move so slow
where foundations shake
both far and near
and hearts of children
quake with fear
where harsh words are
spoken, and hearts are broken
and love is just a tinsel
token
where the homeless gather
to look for heat
use a cardboard box in
place of a sheet
where pains are heavy and
joys are light
where dreams and daring
are out of sight
where your people cloak
your cross with hate
and claim that’s the way
to make us great
where things are people,
and people are things
and the only good is a
fist of bling
Come, o come, Emmanuel…
John Robert McFarland
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