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The Angels

And man, at war with man, hears not
The love-song which they bring;-
Oh, hush the noise, ye men of strife,

And hear the angels sing!

And ye, beneath life's crushing load,
Whose forms are bending low,
Who toil along the climbing way
With painful steps and slow,
Look now! for glad and golden hours
Come swiftly on the wing;-
Oh, rest beside the weary road
And hear the angels sing!

For lo! the days are hastening on
By prophet bards foretold,
When with the ever circling years
Comes round the age of gold;
When Peace shall over all the earth
Its ancient splendors fling,

And the whole world give back the song

Which now the angels sing.

207

Edmund Hamilton Sears [1810-1876]

THE ANGELS

From "Flowers of Sion"

RUN, shepherds, run where Bethlehem blest appears.
We bring the best of news; be not dismayed:

A Saviour there is born more old than years,
Amidst heaven's rolling heights this earth who stayed.

In a poor cottage inned, a virgin maid,

A weakling did him bear, who all upbears;

There is he poorly swaddled, in manger laid,

To whom too narrow swaddlings are our spheres:
Run, shepherds, run, and solemnize his birth.
This is that night-no, day, grown great with bliss,
In which the power of Satan broken is:
In heaven be glory, peace unto the earth!

Thus singing, through the air the angels swarm,
And cope of stars re-echoèd the same.

William Drummond [1585-1649]

THE BURNING BABE

As I in hoary winter's night
Stood shivering in the snow,
Surprised I was with sudden heat
Which made my heart to glow;
And lifting up a fearful eye

To view what fire was near,
A pretty babe all burning bright
Did in the air appear;

Who, scorched with excessive heat,

Such floods of tears did shed,

As though His floods should quench His flames,
Which with His tears were bred:

"Alas!" quoth He, "but newly born

In fiery heats I fry,

Yet none approach to warm their hearts
Or feel my fire but I!

"My faultless breast the furnace is;
The fuel, wounding thorns;
Love is the fire, and sighs the smoke;

The ashes, shames and scorns;

The fuel Justice layeth on,

And Mercy blows the coals,

The metal in this furnace wrought

Are men's defilèd souls:

For which, as now on fire I am

To work them to their good,

So will I melt into a bath,

To wash them in
my

blood."

With this He vanished out of sight

And swiftly shrunk away, And straight I called unto mind

That it was Christmas Day.

Robert Southwell [1561?-1595]

Christmas Carol

209

TRYSTE NOËL

THE OX he openeth wide the Doore,

And from the Snowe he calls her inne, And he hath seen her Smile therefor, Our Ladye without Sinne.

Now soone from Sleep

A Starre shall leap,

And soone arrive both King and Hinde:
Amen, Amen:

But O, the Place co'd I but finde!

The Ox hath hushed his voyce and bent
Trewe eyes of Pitty ore the Mow,

And on his lovelie Neck, forspent,
The Blessed layes her Browe.
Around her feet

Full Warme and Sweete

His bowerie Breath doth meeklie dwell:
Amen, Amen:

But sore am I with Vaine Travel!

The Ox is host in Judah stall

And Host of more than onelie one,

For close she gathereth withal

Our Lorde her littel Sonne.

Glad Hinde and King

Their Gyfte may bring,

But wo'd to-night my Teares were there,

Amen, Amen:

Between her Bosom and His hayre!

Louise Imogen Guiney [1861

CHRISTMAS CAROL

As Joseph was a-waukin',
He heard an angel sing,
"This night shall be the birthnight
Of Christ our heavenly King.

"His birth-bed shall be neither
In housen nor in hall,
Nor in the place of paradise,
But in the oxen's stall.

"He neither shall be rocked
In silver nor in gold,
But in the wooden manger

That lieth in the mould..

"He neither shall be washen
With white wine nor with red,
But with the fair spring water
That on you shall be shed.

"He neither shall be clothed
In purple nor in pall,
But in the fair, white linen
That usen babies all."

As Joseph was a-waukin',
Thus did the angel sing,
And Mary's son at midnight
Was born to be our King.

Then be you glad, good people,
At this time of the year;
And light you up your candles,

For His star it shineth clear.

Unknown

"BRIGHTEST AND BEST OF THE SONS OF THE MORNING"

BRIGHTEST and best of the Sons of the morning!
Dawn on our darkness and lend us thine aid!

Star of the East, the horizon adorning,

Guide where our Infant Redeemer is laid!

Cold on His cradle the dewdrops are shining,
Low lies His head with the beasts of the stall;

Angels adore Him in slumber reclining,

Maker and Monarch and Saviour of all!

Christmas Bells

Say, shall we yield Him, in costly devotion,

Odors of Edom and offerings divine?

Gems of the mountain and pearls of the ocean,
Myrrh from the forest, or gold from the mine?

Vainly we offer each ample oblation;

Vainly with gifts would His favor secure: Richer by far is the heart's adoration;

Dearer to God are the prayers of the poor.

Brightest and best of the Sons of the morning!
Dawn on our darkness and lend us thine aid!
Star of the East, the horizon adorning,

Guide where our Infant Redeemer is laid!

211

Reginald Heber [1783-1826]

CHRISTMAS BELLS

I HEARD the bells on Christmas Day
Their old, familiar carols play,

And wild and sweet

The words repeat

Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

And thought how, as the day had come,
The belfries of all Christendom

Had rolled along

The unbroken song

Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

Till, ringing, singing on its way,
The world revolved from night to day,
A voice, a chime,

A chant sublime

Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

Then from each black, accursed mouth
The cannon thundered in the South,
And with the sound

The carols drowned

Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

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