As the Advent and Christmas season draw near, Lexham Press encourages all readers to cultivate a life of prayer and experience God in a new way this season.
The prayer below is excerpted from Fount of Heaven: Prayers of the Early Church edited by Robert Elmer. The hearts of the first Christians beat with praise for Christ. The strength of their devotion is remarkable, considering the times of uncertainty and persecution in which they lived. The prayers have been slightly updated to read more easily, but they retain their joy and mystery.
Blessings to you this holiday season!
GLORY TO YOUR COMING, WHICH MADE US ALIVE (A Christmas Prayer)
Blessed be the child who made Bethlehem glad on this day! And glory to your coming, which made us alive again. Glory to the hidden gardener of our minds. His seed fell on our ground and made our minds rich.
Glory to the silence, who spoke by his voice. To the hidden one, whose son was made known. To the great one, whose son was descended and was small. To the living one, whose son was made to die.
Glory to the son of the good one, whom the sons of the evil one rejected. To the son of the just one, whom the sons of wickedness crucified. And glory to the one who set us all free, and was bound for us all.
Glory to him who gave the pledge, and redeemed it, too. To the beautiful one, who conformed us to his image. To him on high, who mixed his salt in our minds, and his leaven in our souls. Whose body became bread to bring our deadness alive.
Praise to the rich one, who paid for us all.
Glory to him who can never be measured. Our heart is too small, our mind too feeble. You make our foolish littleness by the riches of your wisdom.
Thanks be to him who sent his heir, that by him he might draw us to himself, and even make us heirs with him. Thanks be to the good one, the cause of all goods.
Blessed is the shepherd who became a lamb for our salvation. The branch who became the cup of our redemption. The architect who became our tower of safety.
Let us praise him whose wounds made us alive, and who took away the curse by his thorns. Praise him who put death to death by his dying, who went to sleep and chased our deep sleep away.
Glory to him who was baptized, and drowned our iniquity in the deep. Who choked the one that was choking us.
Blessed be the one who made in the womb a perfect temple, that he might dwell in it, a throne that he might be in it, a garment that he might be arrayed in it, and a weapon that he might conquer in it.
Blessed be him whom our mouth cannot adequately praise. His gift is too great for the skill of orators to tell. Praise him as we may, it is too little. And since it is useless to be silent and constrain ourselves, may our feebleness excuse whatever praise we can sing.
How gracious you are–you expect not more than our strength can give. Ocean of glory who needs not to have your glory sung, accept in your goodness this drop, amen.
– Ephraim the Syrian
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