Night Divine

The nights are a soul-warming cold. A crisp breeze blowing through the Achilles heel of your coat and gloves, and also into your eyes causing the slightest tears. It's not hard for you to see your breath, especially under the characteristically British streetlights, and for a brief moment you imagine yourself as Lucy first walking into Narnia. The sight of the stone city streets and coloured Christmas lights brings you back out of the wardrobe of your imagination to appreciate how wonderful a night it truly is. The stars brightly shining and the moon not quite full, but closer to the end than the beginning. Old Church steeples tower into the sky, getting darker as they rise out of the light, seemingly trying to reach the stars. And above it all, through the simple sidewalk radios, the sound of Christmas Carols gently easing your mind into memories, as you walk through the empty streets of Coleraine at night.

Oh holy night! The stars are brightly shining,
It is the night of the dear Saviour's birth.
Long lay the world in sin and error pining,
Till He appear'd and the soul felt its worth.
A thrill of hope the weary world rejoices,
For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn.

Fall on your knees! Oh, hear the angel voices!
Oh night divine, Oh night when Christ was born;
Oh night divine, Oh night, Oh night Divine.