512. Winter Psalm

It's been a while since I've added a new hymn to my next hymn-book project. Looking back, the last one was this Summer Psalm. So, how about a seasonal hymn in direct contrast to that? I'll get back to you at a later date about what tune I decide to pair with it. Meanwhile, here's one present-day psalmist's idea of how to turn the gloom of winter into a song of praise. What do you think?

Be it said in the waning of the days:
To God be praise.
From the heart that for warmth and solace aches,
To Him who takes—
Yea, to Him who supplies our every need—
Our hymns proceed.

From bare fields, from our hard and silent ground,
Our hymns resound.
For the seed that in deathly stillness rests,
Our faith attests:
At an hour when the voice of hope lies dumb,
New life will come.

At an hour when no shade was e'er so deep,
When all men sleep,
Christ will come with a heaven-rending flash
And cymbal crash,
Waking all and renewing everything
To joyful spring.

Till that hour, for the waning of the days,
To God be praise.
For the warmth of communion, gathered round
His gospel's sound,
For His still calling Spirit, and for rest,
His name be blest.

(Public domain photo taken by William Wesen)