The Song of the Prophets

For to us a child is born, to us a son is given; and the government shall be upon his shoulder, and his name shall be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. Of the increase of his government and of peace there will be no end, on the throne of David and over his kingdom, to establish it and to uphold it with justice and with righteousness from this time forth and forevermore. The zeal of the Lord of hosts will do this.

-Isaiah 9:6‭-‬7

After long dusty miles,
The virgin catches her breath.
Exhausted, she smiles,
And leans back on Joseph’s chest.
She conceived, she labored,
She held her Son at her breast,
Then laid him in a manger,
Swaddled, to give him rest.

Shepherds awestruck with wonder
Have recently come -
“We heard a choir of angels thunder!
They said the Savior is your Son.”
Her heart began welling,
As the prophets of old
And the story they were telling
Began to unfold.
She gave glory to God
For the thing he had done,
As they worshiped the baby,
The newborn son.

Do you hear them now—
The prophets of old?
Do you hear them singing, voices ringing
Triumphant and bold?
Do you hear them calling
Every tribe, tongue, and nation?
They’re calling them all
With this invitation:
“Come if you’re hungry,
And thirsting for life.
Come without money,
And buy milk and wine!
Come to the waters,
And be satisfied.
If you’re searching for something,
You’re searching for Christ.”

The prophets are asking,
If you hear their song.
You’ll hear—if you listen,
Their voice becomes strong.

The lion who conquers
Is the heart of their message.
The lamb who is slain
Was their theme all along.
His coming forth is from old,
From ancient of days,
But who had considered
That the Potter would become clay?
From Judah—a lion,
And yet a sacrificial lamb;
Very God of very God,
And very man of very man.
He came to conquer;
He came to die.
He came to fall;
He came to rise.

…

Can you hear, oh sky?
The King is coming;
Hang your stars just right.
I hear their footsteps drumming
Toward the City of David—
Can this be so?
He’s coming to save it;
Do the people know?
The King is coming!
Do you hear, oh stones?
Even you’ll cry out
If the people don’t.
Oh children, does the flute
Make your heart feel light?
When you hear sad songs
Do they make you cry?
Can you hear the quiet overture
To the climax of history,
Sung by whispering prophets,
Who spoke of this mystery?

…

Can you hear, oh sky?
The King is coming.
Let your stars fall to the ground;
I hear his footsteps drumming
Toward the City of David—
Can this be so?
He’s coming a second time,
Do the people know?
The King is coming!
Do you hear, oh stones?
We’ll beg you to fall on us
If we don’t.
Does the groom of a bride
Make her heart feel light?
Does the thought of his embrace
Set her aglow with incandescent delight?
Like a watchman, she waits,
Eyes fixed on the horizon,
Certain of his promise,
Ready to meet the sunrise, then
Run to his side. She waits, mingled
With mourning and longing and laughter,
As she prays for the dawning
Of The Great Hereafter.
She is clothed for a funeral and a wedding
In her best white dress:
The marriage supper of the Lamb
And the death of Death.