Christmas Eve: “Sing!”
Tune: BRING A TORCH (“Bring a Torch, Jeanette, Isabella”), a traditional French carol
Words: Anna Strickland (2026), inspired by Luke 2:1-20
In the fields, away from the city, shepherds watched their flocks by night
Deep in darkness, stars shining brightly, angels came with piercing light
Sing! Sing! Breaking through ancient slumber
Sing! Sing! Radiant host on high
In March, I had the opportunity to travel with my in-laws to Yellowknife in the Northwest Territories of Canada. Each night, right around the time I would typically be drifting off to sleep, we bundled up in our snow boots and parkas and every warm item we Texans owned to catch the shuttle for our aurora hunting tour. Our guides, whose ancestors had lived on this land for millennia, chased the green and red glow until they found the perfect spot. We lumbered out of the van and, in the midst of total darkness, color exploded from the sky.
I was writing this collection of hymns at the time, and I stood awestruck, my eyes fixed on the skies. This is a host of angels, I thought. As the bands of color swayed and flickered, grew and divided, I imagined how it must have felt to be lying in a field in the depths of night—the kind of dark that only exists without artificial light—when all of the sudden, the sky splits open. The aurora was singing like the angels. And I sang along.
