Here is Advent’s Alpha, upon an ass astride, Riding to our churches, where we with Him abide,
Crucified together and clothed in Easter skin.
Advent yearly takes us the place we’ve always been.
We hear the desert Voice who hails the holy Lamb,
And readies us to see the Babe in Bethlehem.
John’s finger points to Him, whom sages had foretold,
And we in word and meal, with eyes of faith behold.
He gives the blind their sight, He makes the lame to walk,
He preaches to the poor, by Him the mute can talk.
And we who come bereaved, diseased in heart and soul,
Are by His healing touch, restored and rendered whole.
Yahweh came to Israel, was born to bear our sin,
Comes in font and altar, and shall return again.
O Jesus, Advent King, whose reign’s replete with grace,
Each day of this new year, Your image on us trace.