Down in Yon Forest
(Originally published in Ink and Fairydust, Christmas Edition 2017)
A blanket of crisp yule tide snow caresses the hamlet. Smoke rises up from the chimneys of the wooden houses nestled in the Valley of the Teign. The dawn is breaking and there is light in the windows. Snow flakes caress all vestiges of life, and the first of God's children rises from her slumber. Her soul stirs as she awakes, as she is profusely and profoundly in love, for today is the day when the gentle Christ child reigns in all Christian hearts. She kneels before her bed in pious love for her Lord Jesus. Her prayers ascend with the chimney smoke as this sacred incense floats heavenward above the forest. In this corner of olde England the pagans are put to flight as peace is laid upon the land. King Alfred's sceptred isle is won for the Christ child this holy day, and throughout this sceptred realm the incarnation reigns in transcendent peace as impious imps are turned into stone. Only love remains this Christian day.
Her transcendent morning prayers are assumed into the vaults of heaven, as the Queen of Heaven looks down and beholds a small heart on fire with such sincere piety. The saints of the medieval age look on from the Throne of Grace and give praise for this blessing. God's loves shines upon her overflowing grace filled heart as angels are dispatched to the forest to deliver the gentlest of consolations this yule tide morn. Heart on fire and soul ablaze with the love of the incarnate one, her heart breaking with love is illuminated by holy fire. She muses "such a small child in swaddling clothes, the hope of all mankind. I love my Lord Jesus above everything. How can it be that my Lord Jesus loves me? How can it be that my good Lord endows my soul with such sweet consolation this day?"
Whilst at prayer her heart quickens as she hears the bells of paradise ring and she runs to the church as angels flock gently down from their heavenly realm to assure her safe passage through the bough laden path.
Purple was the colour of the King child's robes that morning. White was the mantle of the land all adorned. Red was the colour of the maids shawl that morning, as she ran through the forest floor.
The valley is filled with the call to worship as the priest vests the precious chasuble of the Lord's day in the sacristy. The men and boys descend from the valley tops to serve in the presence of the blemishless King to be slain on the altar. The air is still as heavenly peace descends at the sound of the sacred vesting prayers. Our maid is radiant with a brides love this Christian morn, as she awaits Our Lord Jesus at the wedding supper of her beloved Lamb.
A Lamb to be born this Christian day
A Lamb to be slain to take my sin away
St. Michael attends by the altar side
The bread to be sanctified and cast away my pride
Down in yon forest pious hearts won by Christ's sting
I love my Lord Jesus above everything.
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