Sunset Christmas Eve

Do we not hear Thy footfall, O Beloved,
Among the stars on many a moonless night?
Do we not catch the whisper of Thy coming
On winds of dawn, and often in the light
Of noontide and of sunset almost see Thee?
Look up through shining air
And long to see Thee, O Beloved, long to see Thee,
And wonder that Thou art not standing there?

And we shall hear Thy footfall, O Beloved,
And starry ways will open, and the night
Will call her candles from their distant stations,
And winds shall sing Thee, noon, and mingled light
Of rose-red evening thrill with lovely welcome;
And we, caught up in air,
Shall see Thee, O Beloved, we shall see Thee,
In hush of adoration see Thee there.

- Amy Carmichael, Rose from Brier, p. 166