Distant Mountain

Oh Lord my God There are times when my heart is cold and I cannot feel thee near, days when all that keeps me going is a sense of duty. Keep me steady and faithful at these times and remind me of thy presence in the past, until suddenly thou dost make myself known to thee again, and I know how the grass feels when the dew falls, and the bird at the day’s first ray of light. Then I realise that I have walked by faith, safely, because thou has been with me all the time. Ever Present by George Appleby With thanks to Rona

Advent Calendar He will come like last leaf's fall. One night when the November wind has flayed the trees to the bone, and earth wakes choking on the mould, the soft shroud's folding. He will come like frost. One morning when the shrinking earth opens on mist, to find itself arrested in the net of alien, sword-set beauty. He will come like dark. One evening when the bursting red December sun draws up the sheet and penny-masks its eye to yield the star-snowed fields of sky. He will come, will come, will come like crying in the night, like blood, like breaking, as the earth writhes to toss him free. He will come like child. © Rowan Williams