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A journal, commonplace book, and Wunderkammer by Alan Jacobs.

My blog on technologies of reading, writing, and knowledge is called Text Patterns; I am an occasional contributor to the Technology channel of The Atlantic; I'm a Contributing Editor for The New Atlantis. Also, I tweet.

My biography of the Book of Common Prayer has now been published by Princeton University Press, and I’ve created an associated tumblelog.

My critical edition of W. H. Auden’s long poem For the Time Being: A Christmas Oratorio is now available.

My next book will be about Christian humanism in a time of total war.

I invite you to a meditative encounter with my online project The Gospel of the Trees.

Please consider supporting this tumblelog by buying some of my books. I will thank you, my family will thank you, and the internet — surely — will thank you.

”Reverting to Type: a Reader’s Story”

The Pleasures of Reading in an Age of Distraction

The Age of Anxiety, by W. H. Auden — a critical edition. A PDF of my Introduction to the poem is available online.

Wayfaring: Essays Pleasant and Unpleasant

Original Sin: a Cultural History

Looking Before and After: Testimony and the Christian Life

The Narnian: the Life and Imagination of C. S. Lewis

Shaming the Devil: Essays in Truthtelling

A Theology of Reading: the Hermeneutics of Love

A Visit to Vanity Fair: Moral Essays on the Present Age

What Became of Wystan: Change and Continuity in Auden’s Poetry

  • April 1, 2007 8:21 am

    Richard Wilbur, “A Christmas Hymn” (for Palm Sunday)

    And as he rode along, they spread their cloaks on the road. As he was drawing near—already on the way down the Mount of Olives—the whole multitude of his disciples began to rejoice and praise God with a loud voice for all the mighty works that they had seen, saying, “Blessed is the King who comes in the name of the Lord! Peace in heaven and glory in the highest!” And some of the Pharisees in the crowd said to him, “Teacher, rebuke your disciples.” He answered, “I tell you, if these were silent, the very stones would cry out.”

    A stable-lamp is lighted
    Whose glow shall wake the sky;
    The stars shall bend their voices,
    And every stone shall cry.
    And every stone shall cry,
    And straw like gold shall shine;
    A barn shall harbor heaven,
    A stall become a shrine.

    This child through David’s city
    Shall ride in triumph by;
    The palm shall strew its branches,
    And every stone shall cry.
    And every stone shall cry,
    Though heavy, dull, and dumb,
    And lie within the roadway
    To pave his kingdom come.

    Yet he shall be forsaken,
    And yielded up to die;
    The sky shall groan and darken,
    And every stone shall cry.
    And every stone shall cry
    For stony hearts of men:
    God’s blood upon the spearhead,
    God’s love refused again.

    But now, as at the ending,
    The low is lifted high;
    The stars shall bend their voices,
    And every stone shall cry.
    And every stone shall cry
    In praises of the child
    By whose descent among us
    The worlds are reconciled.

    1. ayjay posted this