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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 Ilim 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.

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Night is set in, the stars their lamps are raising ;

Each dewy flower hath closed its perfumed chalice ; O’er the blue hills the city lights are blazing,

And the gay cressets gleam in cot and palace. Down the green sheep-tracks rest the flocks enfolden,

Round their still cotes the hinds their fires are waking, While in the homes of Bethlehem lie holden

Eyes all unconscious of the mystery breaking.

Oh, wonder of all wonders,

The hinds their watch are keeping,
A babe is in the manger-

Christ Jesus there is sleeping;
The oxen round him lowing,

The ass his forehead bowing,
The maiden mother kneeling,

While night is o’er them stealing.

Soon shall a fire-flood kindle up the horizon,

Paling the night stars in their fairy shining, Paling the broad sun at his first uprising,

Paling the bright moon at his red declining. Ilark, through the opened lattice of Heaven's portals

Soundeth—“ To God be glory in the highest, Peace be on earth ; Good will to loving mortals."

Peace to thee, Christian, while with joy thou criest.

Oh, wonder of all wonders,

The hinds their watch are keeping,
A babe is in the manger-

Christ Jesus there is sleeping;

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OW holier thoughts awake my rhyme,
The village bells with pealing chime;
And sweeter far their notes to me
Than those of loudest revelry.
To yonder heaven-pointing spire
Is bent the charitable Squire,

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Where consecrated branches spread
Their weeping tendrils o'er the dead;
While there the elm and sable yew
Lend all their ruggedness to view,
Nor shield they now with leafy bloom
The villager's unsculptured tomb ;
As when, with summer foliage crowned,
They hid from gaze each little mound.
Lo, where a goodly blooming train,
The maiden artless, and the swain ;
They hear the summons from afar,
And gather where the holy are.
The aged sire there bends his way,
No staff his feeble arm to stay,
But one whose joy has been to share,
As now, thro’ life his pious prayer.
They hie their tribute just to pay
To Him who lengthened has their day ;
Within yon deeply shaded pile
Where meek Religion 's seen to smile,
As if the wayward to beguile ;
While decked with modest evergreen
Her sanctuary may be seen ;
A token sure of heavenly grace,
Befitting such a holy place.
The Squire upon his bended knee,
With all his family we see,
Gracing the velvet cushioned pew
With every meek observance due.
O may each humble heart now share
The Church's venerable prayer,
And may this day of all the year



The best and holiest appear:
And ’mid our deep affliction show
The bliss unmerited below,
Which Christ descended to bestow.



Glad Christmas comes, and every hearth

Makes room to give him welcome now, E’en want will dry its tears in mirth,

And crown him with a holly bough; Though tramping ’neath a winter sky,

O’er snowy paths and rimy stiles, The housewife sets her spinning by,

To bid him welcome with her smiles.

Each house is swept the day before,

And windows stuck with evergreens, The snow is besomed from the door,

And comfort crowns the cottage scenes. Gilt holly with its thorny pricks,

And yew, and box, with berries small, These deck the unused candlesticks,

And pictures hanging by the wall.

Neighbours resume their annual cheer,

Wishing, with smiles and spirits high, Glad Christmas and a happy year,

To every morning passer-by ;

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