I had hoped to blog on Michaelmas today, but have run out of time. So I offer instead verses from a Michaelmas hymn I love. Yes, it is a Michaelmas hymn; it says so in the New English Hymnal. Though I seem to remember that my beloved training rector was not entirely convinced when I chose it for the first eucharist at which I presided after my priesting.
It came upon the midnight clear
that glorious song of old,
from angels bending near the earth
to touch their harps of gold:
‘Peace on the earth, good will to men,
From heavn’s all gracious King.’
The world in solemn stillness lay
to hear the angels sing.
Still through the cloven skies they come,
with peaceful wings unfurled;
and still their heavenly music floats
o’er all the weary world;
above its sad and lonely plains
they bend on hovering wing;
and ever o’er its Babel sounds
the blessed angels sing.