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Music by Mark Simos ~ Devachan Publishing

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The Messenger

The Messenger

'Twas on a coal-black Christmas night

When the sky shone dark as tar

My breath came clouds in the knife-edged air

And the chimneys puffed sparks at the stars

I walked past windows that poured forth light

From families that sang round the fire

There was many a tear shed for joy that night

  But my eyes had never been drier

  My eyes had never been drier

My footsteps led to some crossing-place

Where the frozen stream crackled below

When off to the left, no more than a pace

I thought I perceived a glow

And so I turned and beheld the sight

In light that streamed from above

I saw a poor angel fallen low

  Lying like some storm-driven dove

  Lying there like some storm-driven dove

Oh, I bid you, kind sir, I heard him say

Please tarry a while by my side

There's cold comfort here for an angel this night

And bitter were the tears he cried

I came to deliver a message, he said

To some stranger in this town

But every heart's door was barred to me

  And now my burden it bears me down

  Now my burden it bears me down

 

Well, I bowed my head and for once I prayed

No, I never had prayed true before

It seemed so cruel such a creature should lie

Down here where the chilly winds roar

And if the skies aren't empty,

  then God must've laughed

To hear such strange sympathy

From a creature so hobbled and halting as I

  For one so much higher than me

  For one so much higher than me

And when I looked up, the angel was gone

Though his arrow had flown to its mark

For in the dry kindling I’d once called a heart

The good Lord had struck forth a spark

So friends, though not seeking, you yet may find

Where solitude bids you to roam

Some poor strange angel with wounds to bind

  Oh I pray you, good friends, speed him home

  I pray you, good friends, speed him home


© 1990 Mark Simos / Devachan Music (BMI) - All Rights Reserved