The Word made Fresh

In silent jubilation the trees and rocks and hills

Cry out in celebration, the earth their joy fills.

The blossoms and the flowers shed glory on the earth

They dedicate their powers to a rose of greater worth

Each morning brings new glory

That every day is fresh

Creation tells the story

Of the Word that was made Flesh.

The Word made Fresh.

For He who has created a man from naught but dust

Has perfectly related the God in whom we trust

Glorious jubilation breaking on the night

The darkness over creation has now been turned to light

The Earthsongs now arise and men cry out in praise

As victory fills the eastern skies

And Heavenís glory now displays

Angels in heaven always gaze

Full on the Fatherís face

And now they look in awe, amazed

At the baby in this lowly place

And see the face of Grace

The infinite eternal Son

Displayed for all to see

And no one notices but the ones

Surrounded by humility

Unto himself the world he seeks

To redeem and reconcile

So heaven opens to the weak

Who find strength in this Child

And angels are descending

And ascending to His throne

That awaits the return of this babe

They defend the One who reigns alone

In glorious jubilation

Their joy is ever fresh

In this Christmas celebration

Of the Word that was made flesh.

Anthony Foster

November 20, 2009