How God the Eternal Son

Came to undo what we had done,

How God the Paraclete,

Who in the chaste womb formed the Babe so sweet,

In power and glory came, the birth to aid and greet.

Wake me, that I the twelvemonth long

May bear the song

About with me in the world's throng;

That treasured joys of Christmas tide

May with mine hour of gloom abide ;
The Christmas Carol ring

Deep in my heart, when I would sing;

Each of the twelve good days

Its earnest yield of duteous love and praise,

Ensuring happy months, and hallowing common ways.

Wake me again, my mother dear,

That I may hear

The peal of the departing year.

O well I love, the step of Time

Should move to that familiar chime:

Fair fall the tones that steep

The Old Year in the dews of sleep,

The New guide softly in

With hopes to sweet sad memorieş akin!

Long may that soothing cadence ear, heart, conscience win.

As the wild air stirs and sways

The tree-swung cradle of a child,

So the breath of these rude days

Rocks the year:-be calm and mild,
Trembling hours, she will arise
With new love within her eyes.

January gray is here,

Like a sexton by her grave;

February bears the bier,

March with grief doth howl and rave,

And April weeps-but, O, ye hours,

Follow with May's fairest flowers.

ALFRED TENNYSON.

FULL knee-deep lies the winter snow,

And the winter winds are wearily sighing:

Toll ye the church-bell sad and slow,
And tread softly, and speak low,
For the Old year lies a-dying.

Old year, you must not die;
You came to us so readily,
You lived with us so steadily,
Old year, you shall not die.

THE DEATH OF THE OLD YEAR.

He lieth still: he doth not move:

He will not see the dawn of day.

He hath no other life above.

He gave me a friend, and a true, true love,
And the New year will take 'em away.
Old year, you must not go;

So long as you have been with us
Such joy as you have seen with us
Old year, you shall not go.

He frothed his bumpers to the brim;
A jollier year we shall not see.
But though his eyes are waxing dim,
And though his foes speak ill of him,
He was a friend to me.

Old year, you shall not die;
We did so laugh and cry with you.
I've half a mind to die with you,
Old year, if you must die.

He was full of joke and jest,

But all his merry quips are o'er.

To see him die, across the waste

His son and heir doth ride post-haste,

But he'll be dead before.

Every one for his own.

The night is starry and cold, my friend,
And the New year blithe and bold, my friend,
Comes up to take his own.

How hard he breathes! over the snow

I heard just now the crowing cock.