The Rumour

Out of the darkness and all the doom-dimmed places of the world, down from dread's hills and over the unforgiving plains the people are coming, carrying their burdens of guilt and regret, suffering and dissatisfaction. Out onto the broad roads under a starlit sky they are making their way slowly, haltingly, from their remembered yesterdays and all the superstitions of their past, towards the leading light; the cosmic sign, going ahead of them toward its resting place above a plain village in a small country, thick with the rumours of a terrible, godly nativity. And listen! They are singing.....:

'O Come, O come, Immanuel'

Listen! It is quiet in the village. There are only the sounds of animals under the great, silent sky, and all the people gathering there are silent, too: they are listening, for the beginning of the rumour. It is like a whisper out of the stars' background, high and pure, born of the essence of a thousand ancient hopes gathering on angel's wings, fluttering about the heart of a young country girl. Listen!

Reading - 'Luke 1:26-38' (The annunciation)

'Hark the herald angels sing'

Continues...