The sound of Your footsteps drawing near—
all creation rises in a shout of joy
and sings.

On this rough and frozen earth,
in this barren wilderness,
again this year You come to us—
barefoot—
upon our thorns and deserts.

To those who have never loved,
to those who have never been loved,
to those who have never spoken the language of love,
to those who have never dreamed of love’s face,
to those who have never known who You are—
come, Holy Child Jesus.

You who travel far
to restore Your image within us—
come like the song of new shoots
bursting through the soil of death.

To the soul that cries, “I cannot go on,”
bring hope.
To the dimming wick,
lay Your own body upon it
and become light.

May the blazing grace of love
open a shining road
for us who have lost our way.
May truth—covered by our greed and sin—
gleam like crystal
under Your touch.
Raise to life
the graves we carry within us
though we appear alive.

Upon the starving people of the North
where even roots and bark freeze,
upon the leaders of the South
bound by chains after consuming what belonged to the people,
upon the mothers and fathers of Gwangju with hearts full of ‘Han’*,
upon Bosnia where peace was signed without reconciliation,
upon our immigrant youth,
thrown aside and locked in unseen prisons,
upon the daughters of Korea
who, feeding others with their bodies, now lie in AIDS wards—
let Your heavy winter snow
fall white upon them all.

You, true Shepherd for a land without shepherds,
true Parent for a humanity without parents—
You come
to pour new spirit and new heart
onto our hardened souls,
You come
like the trumpet of dawn
over a sleeping world.

Your heart, flung toward us
without price—
when it touches us,
each soul awakens
to a new morning.

Jesus our King!

With stammering lips,
with limping feet,
with blind groping hands,
with wounded and unclean bodies,
we fall before You.
Cover the deepest places of our spirits
with Your white grace.

O glorious gift of heaven—
Immanuel,
our Holy Child Jesus!

Amen.

© WanHee Yoon, 1992

* Korean “Han” (한, 恨) is a complex cultural emotion often described as a mix of deep sorrow, unresolved resentment, grief, and longing, shaped by Korea’s history of invasions, colonization, and hardship. It has no exact English equivalent and is considered by some to be a defining aspect of Korean identity, though scholars debate its origins and meaning. Han is best understood as a cultural lens on suffering and resilience—a way Koreans have historically expressed grief, injustice, and longing, but also transformed pain into art, solidarity, and hope.