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Never shines a ray so bright

From the purest earthly gem; O! there is no soothing light

Like the Star of Bethlehem.

Grief's dark clouds may o'er us roll,

Every heart may sink in wo, Gloomy conscience rack the soul,

And sorrow's tears in torrents flow; Still, through all these clouds and storms,

Shines this purest heavenly gem, With a ray that kindly warms

The Star that rose in Bethlehem.

When we cross the roaring wave

That rolls on life's remotest shore; When we look into the grave,

And wander through this world no more; This, the lamp whose genial ray,

Like some brightly-glowing gem, Points to man his darkling way

The Star that rose in Bethlehem.

Let the world be sunk in sorrow,

Not an eye be charm’d or bless'd; We can see a fair tomorrow

Smiling in the rosy west;

This, her beacon, Hope displays;

For, in mercy's diadem
Shines, with Faith's serenest rays,

The Star that rose in Bethlehem.

When this gloomy life is o'er,

When we smile in bliss above,
When, on that delightful shore,

We enjoy the heaven of love,
Oh! what dazzling light shall shine

Round salvation's purest gem!
0! what rays of love divine
Gild the Star of Bethlehem !


When, marshall'd on the nightly plain,

The glittering host bestud the sky;
One Star alone of all the train

Can fix the sinner's wandering eye.

Hark! hark! to God the chorus breaks,

From every host, from every gem ; But one alone, the Saviour speaks,

It is the Star of Bethlehem.

Once on the raging seas I rode,

The storm was loud, the night was dark, The ocean yawn'd, and rudely blow'd

The wind that toss'd my foundering bark.

Deep horror then my vitals froze,

Death-struck, I ceased the tide to stem; When suddenly a star arose,

It was the Star of Bethlehem.

It was my guide, my light, my all,

It bade my dark forebodings cease; And through the storm, and danger's thrall,

It led me to the port of peace.

Now safely moor'd - my perils o'er,

I'll sing, first in night's diadem,
For ever and for ever more,
The Star!- the Star of Bethlehem !

H. K. White.


I. “ After three days they found him in the temple.” – Luke ii. 46.

ABASHED be all the boast of age,

Be hoary learning dumb. Expounder of the mystic page,

Behold an infant come.

O wisdom, whose unfading power

Beside the Eternal stood,
To frame, in nature's earliest hour,

The land, the sky, the flood;
Yet didst not Thou disdain awhile

An infant form to wear;
To bless thy mother with a smile,

And lift thy faltered prayer.
But, in thy Father's own abode,

With Israel's elders round, Conversing high with Israel's God,

Thy chiefest joy was found.

So may our youth adore thy name,

And, Saviour, deign to bless
With fostering grace the timid flame

Of early holiness.



[The following lines do not illustrate, and are not founded

upon any particular passage in the Gospels : but those who appreciate their touching and simple beauty, - as well as the parent who has “an angel in heaven," — will excuse their introduction here.]

Among green pleasant meadows

All in a grove so wild,
Was set a marble image

Of the Virgin and her Child.

There oft on summer evenings,

A lovely boy would rove;
To play beside the image

That sanctified the grove.

Oft sat his mother by him,

Among the shadows dim,
And told how the Lord Jesus

Was once a child like him.

And now from highest heaven

He doth look down each day,
And sees whate'er thou doest
And hears what thou dost say!


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