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Precious, blessed fruit

Friday, December 16, 2016

Psalm 67
May God have pity on us and bless us; may he let his face shine upon us ... The earth has yielded its fruits; God, our God has blessed us. May God bless us, and may all the ends of the earth fear him.

In the 1840's after Charles Dickens wrote The Christmas Carol, he agreed to write four more stories for Christmastime publication. They were strong moral statements, every one. He wanted to "strike blows for the poor." His first biographer John Forster, wrote, "They had always been his clients, they had never been forgotten in any of his books."

Dicken's second story,The Chimes, endeavored to "convert Society, as he had converted Scrooge, by showing that society's happiness rested on the same foundation as those of the individual, which are mercy and charity not less than justice."

His story begins. The world's blows rained down on Trotty Veck, Dicken's protagonist, and in his mid-sixties he was nearly finished. "Wrong every way. Wrong every way!" said Trotty, clasping his hands.

"Born bad. No business here! I have no business with the New Year nor the old one neither. Let me die!" The bells pealed forth, "Put 'em down, put 'em down! Good old Times, Good old Times, Facts and Figures, Facts and Figures! Put 'em down, put 'em down!"

I hear other bells, and Luke's words ring in my ears: "Fear not: for behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which will be to all people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord."

Unto you. Unto you. Unto You, Trotty Veck! By the end of his night's visions, Trotty cries, "I know that our inheritance is held in store for us by Time. I know there is a sea of Time to rise one day, before which all who wrong us or oppress us will be swept away like leaves. I see it, on the flow! I know that we must trust and hope, and neither doubt ourselves, nor doubt the good in one another."

"And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying, "Glory to God in the highest, and on earth, peace, good will toward men!"

The bells ring, the bells ring, all God's children ring their bells. And Tiny Tim rises up on his uncle's shoulder and sings out his eternal song, "God bless us, every one!"

Oh, Lord, break into our fruitless fears that we are all alone. Show us your face, and hold us close beneath your wings, and fly with us toward the warm sun. Bring us home, bring us home, bring us all, bring us all the way home.



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