CHRISTMAS. The night that erst no name had worn The peaceful Prince of earth and heaven, Centuries ago! ALFRED DOMMETT. R Christmas. ING out, wild bells, to the wild sky, Ring out the old, ring in the new- Ring out the grief that saps the mind, Ring out a slowly dying cause, And ancient forms of party strife; Ring in the nobler modes of life, With sweeter manners, purer laws. Ring out the want, the care, the sin, 325 Ring out false pride in place and blood, Ring in the love of truth and right, Ring out old shapes of foul disease, Ring in the valiant man and free, ALFRED TENNYSON. B Epiphany. RIGHTEST and best of the sons of the morning! Dawn on our darkness, and lend us thine aid: Star of the East, the horizon adorning, Guide where our infant Redeemer is laid! Cold on his cradle the dewdrops are shining, Angels adore him in slumber reclining, Maker, and Monarch, and Saviour of all. Say, shall we yield him, in costly devotion, Vainly we offer each ample oblation, Vainly with gifts would his favor secure ; Richer by far is the heart's adoration; Dearer to God are the prayers of the poor. THE STAR OF BETHLEHEM. Brightest and best of the sons of the morning! Guide where our infant Redeemer is laid ! BISHOP HEBER. 327 The Star of Bethlehem. HEN marshaled on the nightly plain, WHEN The glittering host bestud the sky; One star alone of all the train Can fix the sinner's wandering eye. Hark! hark! to God the chorus breaks Once on the raging seas I rode, The storm was loud, the night was dark, The ocean yawned—and rudely blowed The wind that tossed my foundering bark. Deep horror then my vitals froze, Death-struck-I ceased the tide to stem; When suddenly a star arose, It was the Star of Bethlehem. It was my guide, my light, my all; It bade my dark forebodings cease; Now safely moored-my perils o'er, The Star!-the Star of Bethlehem! HENRY KIRKE WHITE. The Crucifixion. BOUND upon the accursed tree, Faint and bleeding—who is He? By the eyes so pale and dim, Streaming blood and writhing limb; By the flesh with scourges torn, By the crown of twisted thorn, By the side so deeply pierced, By the baffled, burning thirst, By the drooping, death-dewed brow, Son of Man! 'tis Thou, 'tis Thou! Bound upon the accursed tree, To the felon at his side, Lord! our suppliant knees we bow, Son of God! 'tis Thou, 'tis Thou! Bound upon the accursed tree, In the chambers of the dead; THE CRUCIFIXION. Bound upon the accursed tree, Dread and awful-who is He? By the prayer for them that slew "Lord! they know not what they do!" By the souls he died to save, By the rainbow round his brow, Son of God! 'tis Thou, 'tis Thou! 329 HENRY HART MILMAN. I The Crucifixion. From the Italian. ASKED the heavens: "What foe to God hath done "Twas man, and we in horror snatched the sun From such a spectacle of guilt and shame!” I asked the sea; the sea in fury boiled, And answered with his voice of storm, "'T was man ; My waves in panic at the crime recoiled, Disclosed the abyss, and from the center ran!" I asked the earth; the earth replied, aghast, "'T was man, and such strange pangs my bosom rent, That still I groan and shudder at the past!" To man, gay, smiling, thoughtless man I went, And asked him next; he turned a scornful eye, Shook his proud head, and deigned me no reply. JAMES MONTGOMERY. |