Immortal Babe, who this dear day, -BISHOP HALL. There's a song in the air, there's a star in the sky, There's a mother's deep prayer, and a baby's low cry, And the star rains its fire while the beautiful sing, For the manger of Bethlehem cradles a king. -JOSIAH GILBERT HOLLAND. With gentle deeds and kindly thoughts And loving words, withal, Welcome the merry Christmas in, And hear a brother's call. --F. LAWRENCE. But the star that shines in Bethlehem Shines still, and shall not cease, And we listen still to the tidings Of glory and of peace. -ADELAIDE A. PROCTER. Who taught mankind on that first Christmas day, The poor will many a care forget, But as they each enjoy their cheer, --C. KINGSLEY. Wish that 'twere Christmas all the year. --THOMAS MILLER. 215 CHRISTMAS CHIMES. "Twas Christmas broached the mightiest ale; The poor man's heart through half the year. -SIR WALTER SCOTT. As fits the holy Christmas birth, Be this, good friends, our carol still Be peace on earth, be peace on earth, To men of gentle will. A SONG OF HOME. EMILY C. H. MILLER. LL day in the deepening sunlight All night the white waves of the moonlight I sit by my window and listen To the voice of the whispering breeze, But away over meadow and upland, I see it again in my dreaming; The twilight is heavy and deep, I can hear through the hush how the water A SONG OF HOME. When the sound of the grinding is still. O sweet as a mother's low singing To the baby asleep on her breast, Rings out that soft song of the water, When the twilight drops down from the west! How white through the boughs of the maple All hushed! but I know by the hearth stone And one hath no need of their praying, And kneeling alone with our sorrow— We wept when we thought how her footsteps For the brows that eternity crowneth May never be saddened by woe, And the lips that have sung with the angels 217 "WHEN THE SONG'S GONE." ["When the song's gone out of your life, you can't start another while it's a-ringing in your ears, but it's best to have a bit of silence, and out o' that maybe a psalm'll come by-and-by."-Edward Garrett.] HEN the song's gone out of your life, That you thought would last to the endThat first sweet song of the heart, That no after days can lend The song of the birds to the trees, The song of the wind to the flowers, "You can start no other song," Not even a tremulous note It is all in vain that you try, For the spirit of song has fled- The nightingale sings no more to the rose So let silence softly fall On the bruised heart's quivering strings; |