God is not dead nor does He sleep.
His tears water the flowers in Martin Place.
His wet eyes are on the mourners -
In their gracious calm we can see His face.
God never left us to our wars
He held back the worst of our violent quests
And rescued those who suffered most,
Granting them glory in eternal rests.
God is not in your foul jihad.
He sent us the prince of justice and peace -
A Lord who loved His enemies,
A King whose death was humankind’s release.
God allows us our ignorance,
Our avarice and lust for worldly jewels.
He smiles on us – our fond father –
While we behave like Yuletide’s greedy fools.
God loves us all nevertheless,
Despite our prodigal appalling crimes.
He restrains the worst of evil -
His mercy tempers these hate-ridden times.
"God is not dead, nor doth He sleep." (Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, Christmas 1863)