Darkness rushes ever on,
As winter claims the land.
The cold of night,
And frost’s cruel blight,
Devouring what’s green and glad.

But though the day shrinks from the eve,
Of winter’s chilly grasp,
Still hope burns bright,
In stars of light,
That say, “this shall not last.”

Echoed in each candle lit,
Each string of garland lights,
“Hope carries on,”
“It is not gone,”
They chime with all their might.

And yet amid the cold and gray,
A greater hope has shone.
Each flickering flame,
Recalls the name,
We whisper, “Christ has come.”

Kindled thus against the cold,
Our souls and hearts are warmed.
Let blizzards come,
Or coldness numb,
We fear not any storm.

“This world’s darkness is but brief,”
Our clouded breath will say,
“Death will not win,”
“Spring will begin,”
“The clouds will break with sun rays.”