Thus singing, through the air the angels swam,
And cope of stars re-echoèd the same.
WILLIAM DRUMMOND.

"While Shepherds Watched Their Flocks by

Night"

Like small curled feathers, white and soft,
The little clouds went by,

Across the moon, and past the stars,
And down the western sky:

In upland pastures, where the grass
With frosted dew was white,

Like snowy clouds the young sheep lay,
That first, best Christmas night.

The shepherds slept; and, glimmering faint,
With twist of thin, blue smoke,

Only their fire's crackling flames
The tender silence broke-

Save when a young lamb raised his head,
Or, when the night wind blew,
A nesting bird would softly stir,
Where dusky olives grew-

With finger on her solemn lip,

Night hushed the shadowy earth,
And only stars and angels saw
The little Saviour's birth;

The Glad

Evangel

The Glad

Evangel

Then came such flash of silver light
Across the bending skies,

The wondering shepherds woke, and hid
Their frightened, dazzled eyes!

And all their gentle sleepy flock
Looked up, then slept again,

Nor knew the light that dimmed the stars
Brought endless Peace to men—

Nor even heard the gracious words
That down the ages ring-

"The Christ is born! the Lord has come,
Good-will on earth to bring!"

Then o'er the moonlit, misty fields,
Dumb with the world's great joy,

The shepherds sought the white-walled town,
Where lay the baby boy-

And oh, the gladness of the world,

The glory of the skies,
Because the longed-for Christ looked up
In Mary's happy eyes!

MARGARET DELAND.

The Star Song

Tell us, thou clear and heavenly tongue,
Where is the Babe but lately sprung?
Lies he the lily-banks among?

Or say, if this new Birth of ours

Sleeps, laid within some ark of flowers,
Spangled with dew-light; thou canst clear
All doubts, and manifest the where.

Declare to us, bright star, if we shall seek
Him in the morning's blushing cheek,
Or search the beds of spices through,
To find him out?

Star. No, this ye need not do;
But only come and see Him rest,
A princely babe, in's mother's breast.
ROBERT HERRICK.

Hymn for Christmas

Oh! lovely voices of the sky

Which hymned the Saviour's birth,
Are ye not singing still on high,
Ye that sang, 66 Peace on earth "?
To us yet speak the strains

Wherewith, in time gone by,
Ye blessed the Syrian swains,
Oh! voices of the sky!

Oh! clear and shining light, whose beams
That hour Heaven's glory shed,

Around the palms, and o'er the streams,
And on the shepherd's head.

The

Glad

Evangel

The

Glad

Evangel

Be near, through life and death,
As in that holiest night

Of hope, and joy, and faith-
Oh! clear and shining light!

FELICIA HEMANS.

New Prince, New Pomp

Behold a simple, tender Babe,
In freezing winter night,
In homely manger trembling lies;
Alas! a piteous sight.

The inns are full; no man will yield
This little Pilgrim bed;

But forced he is with silly beasts
In crib to shroud his head.

Despise him not for lying there;
First what he is inquire:
An Orient pearl is often found
In depth of dirty mire.

Weigh not his crib, his wooden dish,
Nor beasts that by him feed;
Weigh not his mother's poor attire,
Nor Joseph's simple weed.

This stable is a Prince's court,
The crib his chair of state;
The beasts are parcel of his pomp,
The wooden dish his plate.

The persons in that poor attire

His royal liveries wear;

The Prince himself is come from heaven:
This pomp is praised there.

With joy approach, O Christian wight!
Do homage to thy King;

And highly praise this humble pomp,
Which he from heaven doth bring.
ROBERT SOUTHWELL.

The Three Kings

Three Kings came riding from far away,
Melchior and Gaspar and Baltasar;

Three Wise Men out of the East were they,
And they travelled by night and they slept by

day,

For their guide was a beautiful, wonderful

star.

The star was so beautiful, large and clear,
That all the other stars of the sky
Became a white mist in the atmosphere;

The Glad

Evangel