Children of Light (Tuesday in Holy Week)
Arise, little ones. Though in your smallness you cannot see Beyond the faint horizon: He comes, he comes, Across the seas, Bearing light upon his brow. To those despised deeply, Abhorred by the world, He comes bearing folly, to weaken the wise; He sweeps the vast coastlands, His mouth is a sword, Yet he will not lift his voice. And silently he falls to soil, A kernel, broken, to spread its seed And bring in a harvest of plenty. Arise, little ones: He takes in the weak, beleaguered and small And makes them children of light.