Christmas - Various

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Oh, catch the anthem that from heaven

       O'er Judah's mountains rolled!

       When nightly burst from seraph-harps

       The high and solemn lay—

       "Glory to God! on earth be peace;

       Salvation comes to-day!"

      A HYMN ON THE NATIVITY OF MY SAVIOUR

      BEN JONSON

      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 the story?

      THE SHEPHERD'S SONG

      EDMUND BOLTON

      Sweet music, sweeter far

       Than any song is sweet:

       Sweet music, heavenly rare,

       Mine ears, O peers, doth greet.

       You gentle flocks, whose fleeces pearled with dew,

       Resemble heaven, whom golden drops make bright,

       Listen, O listen, now, O not to you

       Our pipes make sport to shorten weary night:

       But voices most divine

       Make blissful harmony:

       Voices that seem to shine,

       For what else clears the sky?

       Tunes can we hear, but not the singers see,

       The tunes divine, and so the singers be.

       Lo, how the firmament

       Within an azure fold

       The flock of stars hath pent,

       That we might them behold,

       Yet from their beams proceedeth not this light,

       Nor can their crystals such reflection give.

       What then doth make the element so bright?

       The heavens are come down upon earth to live

       But hearken to the song,

       Glory to glory's King,

       And peace all men among,

       These quiristers do sing.

       Angels they are, as also (shepherds) He

       Whom in our fear we do admire to see.

       Let not amazement blind

       Your souls, said he, annoy:

       To you and all mankind

       My message bringeth joy.

       For lo! the world's great Shepherd now is born,

       A blessed Babe, an Infant full of power:

       After long night uprisen is the morn,

       Renowning Bethlem in the Saviour.

       Sprung is the perfect day,

       By prophets seen afar:

       Sprung is the mirthful May,

       Which winter cannot mar.

       In David's city doth this Sun appear

       Clouded in flesh, yet, shepherds, sit we here!

      A CHRISTMAS CAROL

      AUBREY DE VERE

      They leave the land of gems and gold,

       The shining portals of the East;

       For Him, the woman's Seed foretold,

       They leave the revel and the feast.

       To earth their sceptres they have cast,

       And crowns by kings ancestral worn;

       They track the lonely Syrian waste;

       They kneel before the Babe new born.

       O happy eyes that saw Him first;

       O happy lips that kissed His feet:

       Earth slakes at last her ancient thirst;

       With Eden's joy her pulses beat.

       True kings are those who thus forsake

       Their kingdoms for the Eternal King;

       Serpent, her foot is on thy neck;

       Herod, thou writhest, but canst not sting.

       He, He is King, and He alone

       Who lifts that infant hand to bless;

       Who makes His mother's knee His throne,

       Yet rules the starry wilderness.

      A CHRISTMAS HYMN

      ANON

      Written in the Chapel of the Manger, in the Convent Church of Bethlehem, Palestine:

      In the fields where, long ago,

       Dropping tears, amid the leaves,

       Ruth's young feet went to and fro,

       Binding up the scattered sheaves,

       In the field that heard the voice

       Of Judea's shepherd King,

       Still the gleaners may rejoice,

       Still the reapers shout and sing.

       For each mount and vale and plain

       Felt the touch of holier feet.

       Then the gleaners of the grain

       Heard, in voices full and sweet,

       "Peace on earth, good will to men,"

       Ring from angel lips afar,

       While, o'er every glade and glen,

       Broke the light of Bethlehem's star.

       Star of hope to souls in night,

       Star of peace above our strife,

       Guiding, where the gates of death

       Ope to fields of endless life.

       Wanderer from the nightly throng

       Which the eastern heavens gem;

       Guided, by an angel's song,

       To the Babe of Bethlehem.

       Not Judea's hills alone

       Have earth's weary gleaners trod,

       Not to heirs of David's throne

       Is it given to "reign with God."

       But where'er on His

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