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.