The magic of 'Little Town'

Gems of inspiration can be found in the most unlikely places. Unless you're of a certain gender and generation, Cliff Richard's Christmas back catalogue mightn't be the first place you'd look to find musical material to turn the world upside down; to stir the imagination, send a tingle down the spine and even bring a tear to the eye (not for the right reasons at any rate). Especially not one based on a 19th century carol. But such, I submit, can be the effect if given the chance to work its magic, of the 1982 offering that heralded Cliff's Christmas single career: 'Little Town'. In my view, a shining example of a new tune (well it was at the time) that releases the power of familiar lyrics in a fresh and uplifting way.
Cliff aside, it's a gem of a carol; hard to think of a better encapsulation of the wonder of the Incarnation. 'O little town of Bethlehem, how still we see thee lie...', personifying the birthplace of the Christ-child as itself like a sleeping baby, utterly unaware of the miracle about to be visited upon it. 'Above thy deep and dreamless sleep, the silent stars go by'..., no hint in nature either that its fabric is about to be ruptured. 'The hopes and fears of all the years are met in thee tonight', brilliantly capturing how the whole human drama, stretching across time and eternity, finds its focal point in what is about to unfold in this humble Roman-occupied backwater. 'How silently, how silently, the wondrous gift is given...'; utterly without show or ostentation, the God of the universe slips unnoticed into the world of flesh and blood, and the latent spiritual implications are unveiled: 'so God imparts to human hearts, the blessings of his heaven'. With the exultant invitation 'O come to us, abide with us' to 'the Lord Emmanuel', an exuberant brass fanfare erupts... then falls away suddenly for the moment of magic to break open: an ethereal high solo male voice, as if from heaven, intimating Christ's coming...
'No ear may hear his coming' poignantly expresses the ease with which His presence is overlooked in all ages, never more so than in our own; 'but in this world of sin'... what a weight of meaning contained in those brief words; and then, as the voices merge in close harmony, the promise of the very indwelling presence of God, 'where meek souls will receive him, still the dear Christ enters in'.
You need a decent audio version and a good sound system to get the most out of the Cliff version, but if you can get past the sound quality, schmaltz and 80s bouffant hair-do - I had to do a double take to check it wasn't Sheena Easton, and it looks like he's sitting in a snow nest - you can see it on youtube. That may be the most risky youtube recommendation I'll ever make. But still: bit of a classic.