Joy rose within her, like a summer's morn; Thou mother of the Prince of Peace, Poor, simple, and of low estate, That strife should vanish, battle cease, O why should this thy soul elate? Sweet music's loudest note, the poet's story,- And is not war a youthful king, A stately hero clad in mail? Beneath his footsteps laurels spring; Him earth's majestic monarchs hail Their friend, their playmate! and his bold bright eye Compels the maiden's love-confessing sigh. "Tell this in some more courtly scene, To maids and youths in robes of state! I am a woman poor and mean, And, therefore, is my soul elate. War is a ruffian, all with guilt defiled, "A murderous fiend, by fiends adored, He kills the sire and starves the son; The husband kills, and from her board Steals all his widow's toil had won? "Then wisely is my soul elate, That strife should vanish, battle cease: CHRISTMAS CAROL. I'm poor and of a low estate, The mother of the Prince of Peace. Joy rises in me, like a summer's morn: Peace, peace on earth, the Prince of Peace is born." CHRISTMAS CAROL. Are (FELICIA HEMANS.) O LOVELY Voices of the sky, That hymned the Saviour's birth! Ye that sang, "Peace on earth?" Wherewith, in days gone by, O clear and shining light, whose beams O star which led to Him, whose love In heaven thou art not set, Thy rays earth might not dim Send them to guide us yet! O star which led to Him! CHRISTMAS DAY. (SAMUEL RICKARDS.) THOUGH rude winds usher thee, sweet day, Though clouds thy face deform, Though nature's grace is swept away Before thy sleety storm; E'en in thy sombrest wintry vest, Of blessed days thou art most blest. Nor frigid air nor gloomy morn Bright is the day when Christ was born, Let roughest storms their coldest blow, Inspired with high and holy thought, Fancy is on the wing; It seems as to mine ear it brought Those voices carolling, Voices through heaven and earth that ran, Glory to God, good-will to man. I see the shepherds gazing wild At those fair spirits of light; CHRISTMAS DAY. I see them bending o'er the child With that untold delight, Which marks the face of those who view Things but too happy to be true. There, in the lowly manger laid, He stoops to take, through spotless maid, Son of high God, creation's Heir, He leaves His heaven to raise us there. Through Him, Lord, we are born anew, Oh, day by day our hearts renew, That Thine we may remain; And angel-like, may all agree, One sweet and holy family. Oft as this joyous morn doth come To speak our Saviour's love, Oh, may it bear our spirits home Where He now reigns above; That day which brought Him from the skies So man restores to Paradise. Then let winds usher thee, sweet day, Let clouds thy face deform, Though nature's grace is swept away Before thy sleety storm; E'en in thy sombrest wintry vest, Of blessed days thou art most blest. THE NATIVITY. (W. J. BLEW.) NIGHT is set in, the stars their lamps are raising; Each dewy flower hath closed its perfumed chalice; O'er the blue hills the city lights are blazing, And the gay cressets gleam in cot and palace. Down the green sheep tracks rest the flocks enfolden, Round their still cotes the hinds their fires are waking, While in the homes of Bethlehem lie holden Eyes all unconscious of the mystery breaking. Oh, wonder of all wonders, The hinds their watch are keeping, A babe is in the manger Christ Jesus there is sleeping; The oxen round him lowing, The ass his forehead bowing, The maiden mother kneeling, While night is o'er them stealing. Soon shall a fire-flood kindle up the horizon, Paling the broad sun at his first uprising, Paling the bright moon at his red declining. Oh wonder of all wonders, The hinds their watch are keeping, A babe is in the manger Christ Jesus there is sleeping; |