The Heavenly Noel

The gate-house all is lighted up,
Wherein Saint Peter dwells;

Saint James looks out of his great house,
All made of oyster shells;

In his good hostel by the flood

Saint Julian rings the bells.

Saint Catherine wears her silver shoes
And pearl-besprinkled gown;

Saint Barbara from her high, high tower
Upon the earth looks down;

Saint Christopher bends wondering eyes
On David's distant town.

The Angels' chanting sounds afar

An ancient waterfall;

They do not listen to their strain,

Nor answer to their call;

Their thoughts are on the little earth,

Not in the heavenly hall.

For there they see a lovelier thing

That is beyond the sky;

They see the little Lord of Heaven

Upon His hard bed lie;

Their hearts are filled with wonder for

The Change of the Most High.

R. L. GALES

88.

THE

CAROL

HE Ox said to the Ass, said he, all on a Christmas night:

'Do you hear the pipe of the shepherds a-whistling over the hill?

That is the angels' music they play for their delight, "Glory to God in the highest and peace upon earth,

Nowell, nowell, my masters, God lieth low in stall,
And the poor labouring Ox was here before you all.'

The Ass said to the Ox, said he, all on a Christmas

day:

'Do you hear the golden bridles come clinking out of the east?

Those are the three wise Mages that ride from far away To Bethlehem in Jewry to have their lore increased... Nowell, nowell, my masters, God lieth low in stall, And the poor, foolish Ass was here before you all.'

DOROTHY L. SAYERS

89.

CHRISTMAS CAROL

H, brother Juniper, come out and play :
Men should be gay on this Holy-Day.

OH

Lo, brother Sun laughing there in the sky,
All so merrily, clear and high.

90.

Christmas Carol

Blithe and merry are men and beasts all
In field and stall, in church and in hall.

Oh, little brother, let the fat men sneer,
We have good cheer this day o' the year.

Oh, brother Juniper, leave 'em their scorn:
Christ is born to us this bright morn.

CHRIS

THE OXEN

J. D. C. PELLOW

HRISTMAS Eve, and twelve of the clock.
"Now they are all on their knees,'

An elder said as we sat in a flock

By the embers in hearthside ease.

We pictured the meek mild creatures where
They dwelt in their strawy pen,

Nor did it occur to one of us there
To doubt they were kneeling then.

So fair a fancy few would weave
In these years! Yet, I feel,
If some one said on Christmas Eve,
'Come; see the oxen kneel

'In the lonely barton by yonder coomb
Our childhood used to know,'

I should go with him in the gloom,
Hoping it might be so.

THOMAS HARDY

May we stroke the creatures there,

Ox, ass, or sheep?

May we peep like them and see

Jesus asleep?

If we touch his tiny hand

Will he awake?

Will he know we've come so far

Just for his sake?

Great kings have precious gifts,

And we have nought,

Little smiles and little tears

Are all we brought.

For all weary children

Mary must weep.
Here, on his bed of straw

Sleep, children, sleep.

How far is it to Bethlehem?

God in his mother's arms,
Babes in the byre,

Sleep, as they sleep who find

Their heart's desire.

FRANCES CHESTERTON

92.

EPIPHANY

ITH a long train of camels following them,

WITH

Laden with myrrh and frankincense and gold, Balthasar, Gaspar, Melchior the old,

Draw near a stable door in Bethlehem,

And, bending down, each king his diadem

Lays at the feet of Him, whom they behold

Wrapped round in swaddling clothes against the cold: The Babe that is a prince of Jesse's stem.

And the mild Mother sees with wondering eyes
The strange, bright gems on their uplifted hands,
Their jewelled swords, and raiment of rich fur.
And, drawing near beneath the starlit skies,
A train of camels bringing from strange lands
Tribute of gold and frankincense and myrrh.

FRANCIS KEPPEL