Comments about Rev. Joseph Mohr

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WashTimesOpEd: In 1816, near the starving and ruined city of Salzburg, Austria, a 24-year-old priest, the Rev. Joseph Mohr, suffered -- as did his flock -- through the aftermath of the Napoleonic Wars.

Karenlynnthomas: Cool story behind Silent Night. My fav Christmas song hands down. Rev. Joseph Mohr wrote the words in 1816 as a reflection on peace after a summer of violence in Salzburg.

JudsonIStone: Rev. Joseph Mohr wrote the lyrics of Silent Night in 1818. Franz Gruber composed the tune for the Christmas Eve premier. Silent night, holy night Son of God, oh, love's pure light Radiant beams from Thy holy face With the dawn of redeeming grace Jesus, Lord at Thy birth

greatplainsumc: Imagine the joy of receiving the unabashed, warm, welcoming embrace of a child. The Rev. Robbie Fall thinks about Jesus' words in Matthew 19:14 in today's devotion:

mgqv320: The Rev. Joseph Mohr wrote the words to the hymn as a reflection on peace after a summer of violence in Salzburg....

Ieronimus2: The Rev. Joseph Mohr wrote the words to the hymn as a reflection on peace after a summer of violence in Salzburg....

StanleyRoush: The Rev. Joseph Mohr wrote the words to the hymn as a reflection on peace after a summer of violence in Salzburg....

americaliterary: The Rev. Joseph Mohr wrote the words to "Silent Night" as a reflection on peace after a summer of violence in Salzb...

mattos3806: Earliest surviving manuscript of "Silent Night," from 1816, in the handwriting of the Rev. Joseph Mohr. (photo: Sal...

scotpaul: The Rev. Joseph Mohr wrote the words to the hymn as a reflection on peace after a summer of violence in Salzburg....

gmvickery1: The Rev. Joseph Mohr wrote the words to the hymn as a reflection on peace after a summer of violence in Salzburg....

ROSECORNETT6: The Rev. Joseph Mohr wrote the words to the hymn as a reflection on peace after a summer of violence in Salzburg....



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Poem of the day

Andrew Lang Poem
Ballade Of The Midnight Forest
 by Andrew Lang

Still sing the mocking fairies, as of old,
Beneath the shade of thorn and holly-tree;
The west wind breathes upon them, pure and cold,
And wolves still dread Diana roaming free
In secret woodland with her company.
'Tis thought the peasants' hovels know her rite
When now the wolds are bathed in silver light,
And first the moonrise breaks the dusky grey,
...

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