The world, upon its axis whirling, groans. The flitting sparrow flinches, flails, and falls. An aching hollow howls within the bones Of bird and beast and man; the death-curse palls Once-glad creation. Stung with sorrow, pain, We toil and struggle under leaden skies And wail like Israel in Pharaoh's reign, \"How long, O Lord, will you ignore our cries?\" God's Holy Spirit bears the troubled prayer Aloft, with a more deeply uttered groan Than ever echoed in earth's bitter air, And lets the burden fall before the throne. God answers. From a starlit hillside creche A pain-cry rings as cold air bites new flesh.