VI CHRISTMAS HYMNS

HARK! the herald angels sing, "Glory to the new-born King! Peace on earth, and mercy mild; God and sinners reconciled." Charles Wesley

I SING the birth was born to-night, The author both of life and light; The angels so did sound it. And like the ravished shepherds said, Who saw the light, and were afraid, Yet searched, and true they found it. The Son of God, th' Eternal King, That did us all salvation bring, And freed the soul from danger; He whom the whole world could not take, The Word, which heaven and earth did make, Was now laid in a manger. The Father's wisdom willed it so, The Son's obedience knew no No, Both wills were in one stature; And as that wisdom had decreed, The Word was now made Flesh indeed, And took on Him our nature. What comfort by Him do we win, Who made Himself the price of sin, To make us heirs of Glory! To see this babe, all innocence, A martyr born in our defence: Can man forget this story? Ben Jonson

WHILE shepherds watch'd their flocks by night, All seated on the ground, The Angel of the Lord came down, And glory shone around. "Fear not," said he (for mighty dread Had seized their troubled mind); "Glad tidings of great joy I bring To you and all mankind. "To you in David's town this day Is born of David's line The Saviour, who is Christ the Lord; And this shall be the sign: "The heavenly Babe you there shall find To human view display'd, All meanly wrapt in swathing-bands, And in a manger laid." Thus spake the seraph; and forthwith Appear'd a shining throng Of angels praising God, and thus Address'd their joyful song: "All glory be to God on high, And to the earth be peace; Good-will henceforth from heaven to men Begin, and never cease!" Nahum Tate

O, LITTLE town of Bethlehem, How still we see thee lie! Above thy deep and dreamless sleep The silent stars go by; Yet in thy dark streets shineth The everlasting light; The hopes and fears of all the years Are met in thee to-night. For Christ is born of Mary; And gathered all above, While mortals sleep, the angels keep Their watch of wondering love! O, morning stars, together Proclaim the holy birth! And praises sing to God the King, And peace to men on earth. How silently, how silently, The wondrous gift is given! So God imparts to human hearts The blessings of His heaven. No ear may hear His coming, But in this world of sin, Where meek souls will receive Him still, The dear Christ enters in. O, holy Child of Bethlehem! Descend to us, we pray! Cast out our sin, and enter in, Be born to us to-day. We hear the Christmas angels The great, glad tidings tell; O, come to us, abide with us, Our Lord Emmanuel. Phillips Brooks

LIKE small curled feathers, white and soft, The little clouds went by, Across the moon, and past the stars, And down the western sky: In upland pastures, where the grass With frosted dew was white, Like snowy clouds the young sheep lay, That first, best Christmas night. The shepherds slept; and, glimmering faint, With twist of thin, blue smoke, Only their fire's cracking flames The tender silence broke— Save when a young lamb raised his head, Or, when the night wind blew, A nesting bird would softly stir, Where dusky olives grew— With finger on her solemn lip, Night hushed the shadowy earth, And only stars and angels saw The little Saviour's birth; Then came such flash of silver light Across the bending skies, The wondering shepherds woke, and hid Their frightened, dazzled eyes! And all their gentle sleepy flock Looked up, then slept again, Nor knew the light that dimmed the stars Brought endless peace to men— Nor even heard the gracious words That down the ages ring— "The Christ is born! the Lord has come, Good-will on earth to bring!" Then o'er the moonlit, misty fields, Dumb with the world's great joy, The shepherds sought the white-walled town, Where lay the baby boy— And oh, the gladness of the world, The glory of the skies, Because the longed-for Christ looked up In Mary's happy eyes!

IT came upon the midnight clear, That glorious song of old, From angels bending near the earth To touch their harps of gold: Peace to the earth, good-will to men, From heaven's all gracious King. The world in solemn stillness lay To hear the angels sing. Still through the cloven skies they come, With peaceful wings unfurled; And still their heavenly music floats O'er all the weary world: Above its sad and lowly plains They bend on hovering wing, And ever o'er its Babel-sounds The blessed angels sing. Yet with the woes of sin and strife The world has suffered long. Beneath the angel-strain have rolled Two thousand years of wrong; And man at war with man hears not The love-song that they bring; Oh, hush the noise, ye men of strife, And hear the angels sing. O 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 splendours fling, And the whole world send back the song Which now the angels sing. Edmund Hamilton Sears

SING, Christmas bells! Say to the earth this is the morn Whereon our Saviour-King is born; Sing to all men,—the bond, the free, The rich, the poor, the high, the low, The little child that sports in glee, The aged folk that tottering go,— Proclaim the morn That Christ is born, That saveth them and saveth me! Sing, angel host! Sing of the star that God has placed Above the manger in the east; Sing of the glories of the night, The Virgin's sweet humility, The Babe with kingly robes bedight,— Sing to all men where'er they be This Christmas morn; For Christ is born, That saveth them and saveth me. Sing, sons of earth! O ransomed seed of Adam, sing! God liveth, and we have a king! The curse is gone, the bond are free,— By Bethlehem's star that brightly beamed, By all the heavenly signs that be, We know that Israel is redeemed; That on this morn The Christ is born That saveth you and saveth me! Sing, O my heart! Sing thou in rapture this dear morn Whereon the blessed Prince is born! And as thy songs shall be of love, So let my deeds be charity,— By the dear Lord that reigns above, By Him that died upon the tree, By this fair morn Whereon is born The Christ that saveth all and me!

IT was near the first cock-crowing, And Orion's wheel was going, When an angel stood before us and our hearts were sore afraid. Lo! his face was like the lightning, When the walls of heaven are whitening, And he brought us wondrous tidings of a joy that should not fade. Then a Splendor shone around us, In a still field where he found us, A-watch upon the Shepherd Tower and waiting for the light; There where David, as a stripling, Saw the ewes and lambs go rippling Down the little hills and hollows at the falling of the night. Oh, what tender, sudden faces Filled the old familiar places, The barley-fields, where Ruth of old went gleaning with the birds. Down the skies the host came swirling, Like sea-waters white and whirling, And our hearts were strangely shaken by the wonder of their words. Haste, O people: all are bidden— Haste from places high or hidden: In Mary's Child the Kingdom comes, the heaven in beauty bends! He has made all life completer, He has made the Plain Way sweeter, For the stall is His first shelter, and the cattle His first friends. He has come! the skies are telling: He has quit the glorious dwelling; And first the tidings came to us, the humble shepherd folk. He has come to field and manger, And no more is God a Stranger: He comes as Common Man at home with cart and crookèd yoke. As the shadow of a cedar To a traveler in gray Kedar Will be the kingdom of His love, the kingdom without end. Tongue and ages may disclaim Him, Yet the Heaven of heavens will name Him Lord of prophets, Light of nations, elder Brother, tender Friend. Edwin Markham in Lincoln and Other Poems By permission

TELL me what is this innumerable throng Singing in the heavens a loud angelic song? These are they who come with swift and shining feet From round about the throne of God the Lord of Light to greet. O, who are these that hasten beneath the starry sky, As if with joyful tidings that through the world shall fly? The faithful shepherds these, who greatly were afeared When, as they watched their flocks by night, the heavenly host appeared. Who are these that follow across the hills of night A star that westward hurries along the fields of light? Three wise men from the east who myrrh and treasure bring To lay them at the feet of him, their Lord and Christ and King. What babe new-born is this that in a manger cries? Near on her bed of pain his happy mother lies. O, see! the air is shaken with white and heavenly wings— This is the Lord of all the earth, this is the King of kings. Tell me, how may I join in this holy feast With all the kneeling world, and I of all the least? Fear not, O faithful heart, but bring what most is meet; Bring love alone, true love alone, and lay it at his feet. Richard Watson Gilder

OUR bells ring to all the earth, In excelsis gloria! But none for Thee made chimes of mirth On that great morning of Thy birth. Our coats they lack not silk nor fur, In excelsis gloria! Not such Thy Blessed Mother's were; Full simple garments covered Her. Our churches rise up goodly high, In excelsis gloria! Low in a stall Thyself did lie, With hornèd oxen standing by. Incense we breathe and scent of wine, In excelsis gloria! Around Thee rose the breath of kine, Thy only drink Her breast Divine. We take us to a happy tree, In excelsis gloria! The seed was sown that day for Thee That blossomed out of Calvary. Teach us to feed Thy poor with meat, In excelsis gloria! Who turnest not when we entreat, Who givest us Thy Bread to eat. Amen.

DANTE saw the great white Rose Half unclose; Dante saw the golden bees Gathering from its heart of gold Sweets untold, Love's most honeyed harmonies. Dante saw the threefold bow Strangely glow, Saw the Rainbow Vision rise, And the Flame that wore the crown Bending down O'er the flowers of Paradise. Something yet remained, it seems; In his dreams Dante missed—as angels may In their white and burning bliss— Some small kiss Mortals meet with every day. Italy in splendour faints 'Neath her saints! O, her great Madonnas, too, Faces calm as any moon Glows in June, Hooded with the night's deep blue! What remains? I pass and hear Everywhere, Ay, or see in silent eyes Just the song she still would sing. Thus—a-swing O'er the cradle where He lies.

Sleep, little baby, I love thee; Sleep, little king, I am bending above thee! How should I know what to sing Here in my arms as I swing thee to sleep? Hushaby low, Rockaby so, Kings may have wonderful jewels to bring, Mother has only a kiss for her king! Why should my singing so make me to weep? Only I know that I love thee, I love thee, Love thee, my little one, sleep.

Is it a dream? Ah, yet it seems Not the same as other dreams! I can but think that angels sang, When thou wast born, in the starry sky, And that their golden harps out-rang While the silver clouds went by! The morning sun shuts out the stars, Which are much loftier than the sun; But, could we burst our prison-bars And find the Light whence light begun, The dreams that heralded thy birth Were truer than the truths of earth; And, by that far immortal Gleam, Soul of my soul, I still would dream! A ring of light was round thy head, The great-eyed oxen nigh thy bed Their cold and innocent noses bowed, Their sweet breath rose like an incense cloud In the blurred and mystic lanthorn light! About the middle of the night The black door blazed like some great star With a glory from afar, Or like some mighty chrysolite Wherein an angel stood with white Blinding arrowy bladed wings Before the throne of the King of kings; And, through it, I could dimly see A great steed tethered to a tree. Then, with crimson gems aflame Through the door the three kings came, And the black Ethiop unrolled The richly broidered cloth of gold, And pourèd forth before thee there Gold and frankincense and myrrh!

See, what a wonderful smile! Does it mean That my little one knows of my love? Was it meant for an angel that passed unseen, And smiled at us both from above? Does it mean that he knows of the birds and the flowers That are waiting to sweeten his childhood's hours, And the tales I shall tell and the games he will play, And the songs we shall sing and the prayers we shall pray In his boyhood's May, He and I, one day?

All in the warm blue summer weather We shall laugh and love together: I shall watch my baby growing, I shall guide his feet, When the orange trees are blowing, And the winds are heavy and sweet! When the orange orchards whiten I shall see his great eyes brighten To watch the long-legged camels going Up the twisted street, When the orange trees are blowing, And the winds are sweet. What does it mean? Indeed, it seems A dream! Yet not like other dreams! We shall walk in pleasant vales, Listening to the shepherd's song, I shall tell him lovely tales All day long: He shall laugh while mother sings Tales of fishermen and kings. He shall see them come and go O'er the wistful sea, Where rosy oleanders blow Round blue Lake Galilee, Kings with fishers' ragged coats And silver nets across their boats Dipping through the starry glow, With crowns for him and me! Ah, no; Crowns for him, not me! Rockaby so! Indeed, it seems A dream! Yet not like other dreams!

Ah, see what a wonderful smile again! Shall I hide it away in my heart, To remember one day in a world of pain When the years have torn us apart, Little babe, When the years have torn us apart? Sleep, my little one, sleep, Child with the wonderful eyes, Wild miraculous eyes, Deep as the skies are deep! What star-bright glory of tears Waits in you now for the years That shall bid you waken and weep? Ah, in that day, could I kiss you to sleep Then, little lips, little eyes, Little lips that are lovely and wise, Little lips that are dreadful and wise!

Clenched little hands like crumpled roses, Dimpled and dear, Feet like flowers that the dawn uncloses, What do I fear? Little hands, will you ever be clenched in anguish? White little limbs, will you droop and languish? Nay, what do I hear? I hear a shouting, far away, You shall ride on a kingly palm-strewn way Some day! But when you are crowned with a golden crown And throned on a golden throne, You'll forget the manger of Bethlehem town And your mother that sits alone Wondering whether the mighty king Remembers a song she used to sing, Long ago,— "Rockaby so, Kings may have wonderful jewels to bring, Mother has only a kiss for her king!"... Ah, see what a wonderful smile, once more! He opens his great dark eyes! Little child, little king, nay, hush, it is o'er, My fear of those deep twin skies,— Little child, You are all too dreadful and wise!

But now you are mine, all mine, And your feet can lie in my hand so small, And your tiny hands in my heart can twine, And you cannot walk, so you never shall fall, Or be pierced by the thorns beside the door, Or the nails that lie upon Joseph's floor; Through sun and rain, through shadow and shine, You are mine, all mine! Alfred Noyes in The Golden Hynde