A CHRISTMAS CAROL.

Hence, while the imperial City's din

Beats frequent on thy satiate ear,

A pleased attention I may win
To agitations less severe,
That neither overwhelm nor cloy,
But fill the hollow vale with joy!

Religions Carols.

A CHRISTMAS CAROL.

SAMUEL T. COLERIDGE.

THE shepherds went their hasty way,

And found the lowly stable shed
Where the virgin mother lay:

And now they checked their eager tread,
For, to the babe that at her bosom clung,
A mother's song the virgin mother sung.

They told her how a glorious light,

Streaming from a heavenly throng,
Around them shone, suspending night!

While, sweeter than a mother's song,
Blest angels heralded the Saviour's birth,
Glory to God on high! and peace on earth.

She listened to the tale divine,

And closer still the babe she pressed : And while she cried, the babe is mine!

The milk rushed faster to her breast:

Joy rose within her, like a summer's morn ;
Peace, peace on earth! the Prince of Peace is born.

Thou mother of the Prince of Peace,

Poor, simple, and of low estate, That strife should vanish, battle cease,

O why should this thy soul elate?

Sweet music's loudest note, the poet's story,—

Didst thou ne'er love to hear of fame and glory?

And is not war a youthful king,

A stately hero clad in mail? Beneath his footsteps laurels spring;

Him earth's majestic monarchs hail

Their friend, their playmate! and his bold bright eye Compels the maiden's love-confessing sigh.

"Tell this in some more courtly scene,

To maids and youths in robes of state!

I am a woman poor and mean,

And, therefore, is my soul elate.

War is a ruffian, all with guilt defiled,
That from the aged father tears his child!

"A murderous fiend, by fiends adored,

He kills the sire and starves the son;

The husband kills, and from her board

Steals all his widow's toil had won?

Plunders God's world of beauty; rends away
All safety from the night, all comfort from the day.

"Then wisely is my soul elate,

That strife should vanish, battle cease:

CHRISTMAS CAROL.

I'm poor and of a low estate,

The mother of the Prince of Peace.

Joy rises in me, like a summer's morn :
Peace, peace on earth, the Prince of Peace is born."

CHRISTMAS CAROL.

FELICIA HEMANS.

O LOVELY Voices of the sky,

That hymned the Saviour's birth!
Are ye not singing still on high,

Ye that sang, "Peace on earth?"

To us yet speak the strains,

Wherewith, in days gone by,

Ye blessed the Syrian swains,

O voices of the sky!

O clear and shining light, whose beams
That hour heaven's glory shed
Around the palms, and o'er the streams,

And on the shepherds' head;

Be near, through life and death,
As in that holiest night

Of Hope, and Joy, and Faith,

O clear and shining light!

O star which led to Him, whose love

Brought down man's ransom free;
Where art thou?-'midst the hosts above,

May we still gaze on thee?—

In heaven thou art not set,

Thy rays earth might not dim

Send them to guide us yet!

O star which led to Him!

CHRISTMAS DAY.

SAMUEL RICKARDS,

THOUGH rude winds usher thee, sweet day,

Though clouds thy face deform, Though nature's grace is swept away

Before thy sleety storm;

E'en in thy sombrest wintry vest,

Of blessed days thou art most blest.

Nor frigid air nor gloomy morn
Shall check our jubilee ;

Bright is the day when Christ was born,
No sun need shine but He;

Let roughest storms their coldest blow,
With love of Him our hearts shall glow.

Inspired with high and holy thought,

Fancy is on the wing;

It seems as to mine ear it brought
Those voices carolling :

Voices through heaven and earth that ran,
Glory to God, good-will to man.

I see the shepherds gazing wild

At those fair spirits of light;

CHRISTMAS DAY.

I see them bending o'er the child

With that untold delight,

Which marks the face of those who view

Things but too happy to be true.

There, in the lowly manger laid,

Incarnate God they see,

He stoops to take, through spotless maid,
Our frail humanity;

Son of high God, creation's Heir,

He leaves His heaven to raise us there.

Through Him, Lord, we are born anew,
Thy children once again,

Oh, day by day our hearts renew,
That Thine we may remain;

And angel-like, may all agree,

One sweet and holy family.

Oft as this joyous morn doth come

To speak our Saviour's love,

Oh, may it bear our spirits home

Where He now reigns above;

That day which brought Him from the skies, So man restores to Paradise.

Then let winds usher thee, sweet day,

Let clouds thy face deform, Though nature's grace is swept away Before thy sleety storm;

E'en in thy sombrest wintry vest,

Of blessed days thou art most blest.