Christmas At Church
The organ thunders, murmurs, is complete,
Is hallowed, melts in mysteries.
No more the troubles of the day or dusk
When music is a leaning-wall of peace.

We abide in beauty. Beneath high-vaulted glory
The Christmas message is a Medicine.
A healing lotion for offended eyes.
An ointment for the ache that freezes in.

This is our refuge and our Strengthener,
To gird us, spur us back into the flame
And steam. Our forces, faith and confidence.
Our guide, the superstructure of a Name.
Gwendolyn Brooks