Little we can confess,
Beyond that we are poor, and creep
And wander with our sheep,

Who love and follow us. We hear,
If we attend, a singing in the sky;
But feel no fear,

Knowing that God is always nigh,
And none pass by,

Except his Sons, who cannot bring
Tidings of evil, since they sing.

Wise men with gifts are hurrying,

In haste to seek the meaning of the Star, In search of worship which is new and far. We are but humble, so we keep

On through the night, contented with our sheep, And with the stars.

Between us and the east, No wall, no tree, no cloud, lifts bar. We know the sunrise. Not one least Of all its tokens can escape Our eyes that watch. But all days are As nights, and nights as days, In our still ways.

Childhood shall be forever on the earth; And no man who has hurt or lightly priced So much as one sweet hair

On one sweet infant's head,

But shall be cursed! Henceforth all things fulfil

Protection to each sacred birth.
No spot shall dare

Refuse a shelter. Beasts shall tread

More lightly; and distress

And poverty and loneliness,

Yea, and all darkness, shall devise

To shield each place wherein an infant lies. And wisdom shall come seeking it with gift,

And worship it with myrrh and frankincense; And kings shall tremble if it lift

Its hand against a throne.

But mighty in its own

V.

O Christmas stars! your pregnant silentness, Mute syllabled in rhythmic light,

Fills all the night.

No doubt, on all your golden shores, Full music rings

A CHRISTMAS CAROL.

SUNG TO THE KING, IN THE PRESENCE, AT WHITE-HALL. ROBERT HERRICK, one of the best of English song-writers, was born in London, Aug. 20, 1591, and after graduation at Cambridge, took orders and was Vicar of Dean Priors, Devon, until his death, in October, 1674, though his pastoral relations were suspended during the civil war.

WHAT sweeter music can we bring,
Than a carol for to sing

The birth of this our Heavenly King?
Awake the voice! Awake the string!
Heart, ear, and eye, and everything
Awake! the while the active finger
Runs divisions with the singer.

Dark and dull night, fly hence away,
And give the honor to this day,
That sees December turned to May.
If we may ask the reason, say
The why, and wherefore all things here
Seem like the spring-time of the year?

Why does the chilling winter's morn Smile, like a field beset with corn?

A CORNISH CAROL.

269

WELCOME! that star in Judah's sky,
That voice o'er Bethlehem's palmy glen,
The lamp far sages hailed on high,
The tones that thrilled the shepherd men ;
Glory to God in loftiest heaven,
Thus angels smote the echoing chord,
Glad tidings unto man forgiven;
Peace from the presence of the Lord.

The shepherds sought that birth divine;
The wise men traced their guided way;
There, by strange light and mystic sign,
The God they came to worship lay:
A human babe in beauty smiled
Where lowing oxen round him trod;
A maiden clasped her awful child,
Pure offspring of the breath of God.
Those voices from on high are mute;
The star the wise men saw is dim;
But hope still guides the wanderer's foot,
And faith renews the angel-hymn:
Glory to God in loftiest heaven,
Touch with glad hand the ancient chord,-
Good tidings unto man forgiven;
Peace from the presence of the Lord.

1827.

R. S. HAWKER.

CANON FOR CHRISTMAS-DAY.

Χριστὸς γεννᾶται· δοξάσατε.

ST. COSMAS of Jerusalem was foster brother of St. John of Damascus. Like him he was a monk in the Convent of St. Sabas, between Jerusalem and the Dead Sea. For a time he was Bishop of Miauma, near Gaza. After a life of holiness he died, about 760, in the performance of his episcopal duties. He is called the Melodist.

Loving ones, quietly rest.

Blissful night, peacefully bright!

Shepherds first shall see the sight

While their flocks they are watching around;

Angels' harpings over them sound,

Loud Alleluias they ring,

Jesus the Saviour is King.

Peaceful night, serenely bright!

Ere the rays of morning light,

Beam on the Maiden the Infant's soft eyes,
Bringing us hope from the merciful skies,
Blessings the fond Mother thrill,
Happiness, peaceful and still.

JOHANN LUDWIG UHLAND. Translated by
MISS MARY DUNLOP MOULTRIE, 1867.

CHRIST is born! Tell forth his fame !
Christ from heaven! His love proclaim!

Christ on earth! Exalt his name!

Sing to the Lord, O world, with exultation, Break forth in glad thanksgiving, every nation, For he hath triumphed gloriously!

Man, in God's own image made,

Man, by Satan's wiles betrayed,

Man, on whom corruption preyed,

Shut out from hope of life and of salvation
To-day Christ maketh him a new creation.
For he hath triumphed gloriously!

For the Maker, when his foe
Wrought the creature death and woe,
Bowed the heavens, and came below,
And, in the Virgin's womb his dwelling making
Became True Man, man's very nature taking;
For he hath triumphed gloriously!

LAURA C. REDDEN, a lyric poet of some note, was born in Maryland, about 1840. She lost her hearing at the age of twelve. Under the signature "Howard Glyndon " she has been a contributor to the periodical press for some years. In 1860 she became editorially connected with the St. Louis Presbyterian, but now devotes herself to other work.

'T was a dim, delicious night;

The earth, close wrapt in ermined white,
Lay languid in the misty light.
The circling spheres were all in tune,
And, in their midst, the empress moon
Was brightening to her highest noon.
It was the night when Bethlehem's star
Guided the sages from afar.

It was the night when shepherds heard
The reverent air by music stirred.
It was the night of old renown,
When wondering angel-eyes looked down,
To see Christ's head, bare of its crown,
Within the manger laid!