Into This Silent Night

Yesterday, at the memorial service for Jerry McAllister, I shared the following poem by Ann Weems, from her book, Kneeling in Bethlehem:

Into This Silent Night

Into this silent night
As we make our weary way
We know not where;
Just when the night becomes its darkest
And we cannot see our path;
Just then is when the angels rush in,
Their hands full of stars.





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