Light me, I am the first candle of Advent.
I am the first flickering hope of a coming.
See, already the night is drawing back.
Hope is not yet a certainty but is my little flame of faith.
Light me, I am the second candle of Advent.
Now we are two flames, bolder against the night.
Is this a challenge to the shortening day, the winter’s cold bleakness?
Does faith strengthen the will to wait, to outgaze the darkness?
Hold on to the glow, to feel the sense of that coming.
Light me, I am the third candle of Advent.
I am the candle of quiet joy, the deep flare in the heart.
I stand a flame against gaudy over early Christmas.
I am the rose of sunset and of dawn, a true glow of hope.
Light me, I am the fourth candle of Advent.
Now we are four flames of faith for a moment of change,
an ever-building light that somehow promises an end to waiting.
But hold firm to our four quiet flickerings - Advent is not yet over.
Let Maranatha stay your waking watchword till morning Birth comes over the horizon.
Poem by Tim Hoare: 2024