O come, Desire of nations, bind
        in one the hearts of humankind,
    bid thou our sad divisions cease,
        and be thyself our King of Peace.

The world, worn and weary,
barely able to rise from bed each morning,
tired of grieving for her children,
tired of tucking them broken beneath her drying skin,
oh, the worn and weary world
knows all desire points to just one thing,
knows she is but one mother
owned by none, belonging to all,
longs to her hot, molten heart
for this (finally!) Bringer of Peace,
would sacrifice herself
for the coming of this At-Long-Last Peaceful King.

Text and image © 2013 by Dirk deVries. All rights reserved.