A Christmas Idyl

First line: In solemn council sat the Gods

Original language: English

Words: Orson F. Whitney
Music: None

A Christmas Idyl
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1. In solemn council sat the Gods.From Kolob’s height supreme,Celestial light blazed forth afarO’er countless Kokaubeam.Reflected whence fell radiant gleamsOf that resplendent day,Far down the dark abysmal realmWhere Earth in chaos lay.
2. Rapt silence reigned. The hour was oneWhen Thought doth most avail.The destiny of worlds unbornHung trembling in the scale.A hush profound—and there uprose,Those Kings and Priests among,A Pow’r sublime, than whom appearedNone mightier ’mid the throng.
3. A stature mingling strength and grace,Of meek though godlike mien,The lustre of whose countenanceOutshone the noonday sheen.The hair was white as purest foam,Or frost of Alpine hill.He spake—attention grew more grave—The stillness e’en more still.
4. “Father!”—the voice like music fell,Clear as the murmuring flowOf mountain streamlet, trickling downFrom heights of virgin snow—“Father,” it said, “since One must dieThy children to redeem,Whilst Earth—as yet unformed and void—With pulsing life shall teem;
5. “And thou, great Michael, foremost fallThat mortal man may be,And chosen Savior yet must send,Lo, here am I, send me!I ask—I seek no recompense,Save that which then were mine;Mine be the willing sacrifice,The endless glory—Thine!”
6. He ceased and sat; when sudden roseAloft a towering Form,Proudly erect as lowering peakThat looms above the storm.A Presence bright and beautiful,With eye of flashing fire,A lip whose haughty curl bespokeA sense of inward ire.
7. “Give me to go,” he boldly cried,With scarce concealed disdain,“And none shall hence, from Heav’n to Earth,That shall not rise again.My saving plan exception scorns—Man’s agency unknown.As recompense—I claim the rightTo sit on yonder Throne!”
8. Ceased Lucifer. The breathless hushResumed and denser grew.All eyes were turned—the general gazeOne common magnet drew.A moment there was solemn pause—Then, like the thunder-burst,Rolled forth from lips Omnipotent,The words: “I’ll send the first!”
9. ’Twas done. From congregation vast,Tumultuous murmurs rose—Waves of conflicting sound, as whenTwo meeting seas oppose.’Twas finished—but the heavens wept—And still their annals tellHow God’s elect was chosen Christ,O’er One who fighting fell.

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A Christmas Idyl

, 1