Part 2

There were sparkles on the window-pane and sparkles in the sky, The moon it sparkled like a star above the world so high, There was star-shine on the ceiling, there was star-shine on the bed, There was star-shine in my eyes, I think, and star-shine in my head.

I clambered from my sleep, I did; I flung the window wide, I wanted all that waited in the Christmas Eve outside, I wanted for myself to hear the Christmas people sing, I wanted for myself to hear the Christmas joy-bells ring.

And there outside were waiting three grey Shepherds in the snow, (I knew that they were Shepherds, for they all had crooks, you know,) And when they saw me waiting too they sang to me a song— The stars, they caught and whispered it the whole wide sky along.

And then the Shepherds went their way and three black camels came, They stayed beneath the window there and waited just the same, And each black camel on his back had brought an Eastern King, And though each King was very great each had a song to sing.

They sang it as the Shepherds sang, a little low sweet song,— The white stars caught and whispered it the whole wide sky along; And then the camels went their way, I watched them down the street, The snow lay white and soft and still beneath their silent feet.

There was singing in the tree-tops, there was singing in the sky, The moon was singing to the clouds above the world so high, And all the stars were singing too and when I looked below, I saw a little, tiny Child was waiting in the snow.

And first I watched him wait there—watched and only waved my hand, For though the song was in my heart I did not understand, Until at last it burst in words, because at last I knew, And then he looked at me and laughed and sang the star-song too.

And right across the misty fields I heard the church bells ring, The star-song echoed far and wide for all the world to sing, But still the tiny Child stood there—the Child that once was born— We sang His birthday song—we did—upon His Christmas morn.

M. NIGHTINGALE

IN PRÆSEPIO

In stable straw the Infant lay, Turned from the hostelry away, There was no room its doors within, For Him Who is the whole world’s Inn.

Creation sang, no longer dumb, Because her great Desire was come; The sad earth in His joy had part, Who bore her sorrow in His Heart.

The Angels danced, the Shepherds piped, Because earth’s tears away were wiped; The Ox and Ass adoring saw The Infant lying in the straw.

R. L. GALES

WHEN CHRIST WAS BORN

When Christ was born of Mary free, In Bethlehem in that fair citie, Angels sang there with mirth and glee, _In Excelsis Gloria!_

Herdsmen beheld these angels bright, To them appearing with great light, Who said, “God’s Son is born this night,” _In Excelsis Gloria!_

This King is come to save mankind, As in Scripture truths we find, Therefore this song have we in mind, _In Excelsis Gloria!_

Then, dear Lord, for Thy great grace, Grant us the bliss to see Thy face, That we may sing to Thy solace, _In Excelsis Gloria!_

TRADITIONAL

THE CAROL OF THE POOR CHILDREN

We are the poor children, come out to see the sights On this day of all days, on this night of nights, The stars in merry parties are dancing in the sky, A fine star, a new star, is shining on high!

We are the poor children, our lips are frosty blue, We cannot sing our carol as well as rich folk do, Our bellies are so empty we have no singing voice, But this night of all nights good children must rejoice.

We do rejoice, we do rejoice, as hard as we can try, A fine star, a new star is shining in the sky! And while we sing our carol, we think of the delight The happy kings and shepherds make in Bethlehem to-night.

Are we naked, mother, and are we starving poor— Oh, see what gifts the kings have brought outside the stable door, Are we cold, mother, the ass will give his hay To make the manger warm and keep the cruel winds away.

We are the poor children, but not so poor who sing Our carol with our voiceless hearts to greet the new-born king, On this night of all nights, when in the frosty sky A new star, a kind star, is shining on high!

RICHARD MIDDLETON

STAR OF THE EAST

Star of the East, that long ago Brought wise men on their way Where, angels singing to and fro, The Child of Bethlehem lay— Above that Syrian hill afar Thou shinest out to-night, O Star!

Star of the East, the night were drear But for the tender grace That with thy glory comes to cheer Earth’s loneliest, darkest place; For by that charity we see Where there is hope for all and me.

Star of the East! show us the way In wisdom undefiled To seek that manger out and lay Our gifts before the Child— To bring our hearts and offer them Unto our King in Bethlehem!

EUGENE FIELD

A CHRISTMAS CAROL

Before the paling of the stars, Before the winter morn, Before the earliest cock-crow, Jesus Christ was born: Born in a stable, Cradled in a manger, In the world His Hands had made Born a stranger.

Priest and King lay fast asleep In Jerusalem, Young and old lay fast asleep In crowded Bethlehem: Saint and angel, ox and ass, Kept a watch together Before the Christmas daybreak In the winter weather.

Jesus on His mother’s breast In the stable cold, Spotless Lamb of God was He, Shepherd of the Fold: Let us kneel with Mary Maid, With Joseph bent and hoary, With saint and angel, ox and ass, To hail the King of Glory.

CHRISTINA ROSSETTI

YULE-TIDE FIRES

Cleanse with the burning log of oak The canker of thy care, Deck with the scarlet-berried bough The temple of the fair; Spread pure-white linen for a feast, Perchance some guest may share.

Give forth thy gold and silver coins, For they were lent to thee; Put out to usury thy dross, One talent gaineth three. Perchance the hungered and the poor May pray to God for thee.

Once a pale star rose in the East For watching herds to see, And weakness came to Bethlehem, And strength to Galilee. Perchance! if thou dost keep thy tryst A star may rise for thee.

ANONYMOUS

SIX GREEN SINGERS

The frost of the moon fell over my floor And six green singers stood at my door.

“What do ye here that music make?” “Let us come in for Christ’s sweet Sake.”

“Long have ye journeyed in coming here?” “Our Pilgrimage was the length of the year.”

“Where do ye make for?” I asked of them. “Our Shrine is a Stable in Bethlehem.”

“What will ye do as ye go along?” “Sing to the world an ever-green song.”

“What will ye sing for the listening earth?” “One will sing of a brave-souled Mirth,

“One of the Holiest Mystery, The Glory of glories shall one song be,

“One of the Memory of things, One of the Child’s imaginings,

“One of our songs is the fadeless Faith, And all are the Life more mighty than death.”

“Ere ye be gone that music make, Give me an alms for Christ’s sweet Sake.”

“Six green branches we leave with you; See they be scattered your house-place through.

“The staunch blithe Holly your board shall grace, Mistletoe bless your chimney place,

“Laurel to crown your lighted hall, Over your bed let the Yew-bough fall,

“Close by the cradle the Christmas Fir, For elfin dreams in its branches stir,

“Last and loveliest, high and low, From ceil to floor let the Ivy go.”

From each glad guest I received my gift And then the latch of my door did lift—

“Green singers, God prosper the song ye make As ye sing to the world for Christ’s sweet Sake.”

ELEANOR FARJEON

THAT HOLY KING

They all were looking for a king To slay their foes and lift them high: Thou cam’st, a little baby thing That made a woman cry.

O Son of Man, to right my lot Naught but Thy presence can avail; Yet on the road Thy wheels are not, Nor on the sea Thy sail!

My how or when Thou wilt not heed, But come down thine own secret stair, That Thou mayst answer all my need— Yea, every bygone prayer.

GEORGE MACDONALD

CHRISTMAS

A boy was born at Bethlehem that knew the haunts of Galilee. He wandered on Mount Lebanon, and learned to love each forest tree.

But I was born at Marlborough, and love the homely faces there; and for all other men besides ’tis little love I have to spare.

I should not mind to die for them, my own dear downs, my comrades true. But that great heart of Bethlehem, he died for men he never knew.

And yet, I think, at Golgotha, as Jesus’ eyes were closed in death, they saw with love most passionate the village street at Nazareth.

E. HILTON YOUNG

TO HIS SAVIOUR, A CHILD; A PRESENT BY A CHILD

Go pretty child, and bear this flower Unto thy little Saviour; And tell Him, by that bud now blown, He is the Rose of Sharon known: When thou hast said so, stick it there Upon his bib, or stomacher: And tell Him, (for good handsell too) That thou hast bought a whistle new, Made of a clean straight oaten reed, To charm His cries, (at time of need:) Tell Him, for coral, thou hast none; But if thou hadst, He should have one; But poor thou art, and known to be Even as moneyless as He. Lastly, if thou canst win a kiss From those mellifluous lips of His; Then never take a second on To spoil the first impression.

ROBERT HERRICK

AN ODE TO THE BIRTH OF OUR SAVIOUR

In numbers, and but these few, I sing Thy birth, O Jesu! Thou pretty baby, born here, With sup’rabundant scorn here; Who for Thy princely port here, Hadst for Thy place Of birth a base Out-stable for Thy court here.

Instead of neat enclosures Of interwoven osiers, Instead of fragrant posies Of daffodils and roses, Thy cradle, Kingly Stranger, As Gospel tells, Was nothing else But here a homely manger.

* * * * *

The Jews they did disdain Thee, But we will entertain Thee, With glories to await here, Upon Thy princely state here; And more for love than pity, From year to year, We’ll make Thee, here, A free-born of our city.

ROBERT HERRICK

A CHRISTMAS CAROL

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!

* * * * *

Why does the chilling winter’s morn Smile, like a field beset with corn? Or smell, like to a mead new-shorn, Thus, on the sudden?

Come and see The cause, why things thus fragrant be. ’Tis He is born, whose quickening birth Gives light and lustre, public mirth, To heaven, and the under-earth.

* * * * *

The darling of the world is come, And fit it is we find a room To welcome Him. The nobler part Of all the house here, is the heart, Which we will give Him; and bequeath This holly, and this ivy wreath, To do Him honour; who’s our King, And Lord of all this revelling.

ROBERT HERRICK

THE OXEN

Christmas Eve, and twelve of the clock. “Now they are all on their knees,” An elder said as we sat in a flock By the embers in hearthside ease.

We pictured the meek mild creatures where They dwelt in their strawy pen, Nor did it occur to one of us there To doubt they were kneeling then.

So fair a fancy few would weave In these years! Yet, I feel, If some one said on Christmas Eve, “Come; see the oxen kneel

“In the lonely barton by yonder coomb Our childhood used to know,” I should go with him in the gloom Hoping it might be so.

THOMAS HARDY

I SAW THREE SHIPS

I saw three ships come sailing in, On Christmas Day, on Christmas Day; I saw three ships come sailing in On Christmas Day in the morning.

And who was in those ships all three, On Christmas Day, on Christmas Day? And who was in those ships all three, On Christmas Day in the morning?

Our Saviour Christ and his ladye, On Christmas Day, on Christmas Day; Our Saviour Christ and his ladye, On Christmas Day in the morning.

Pray whither sailed those ships all three, On Christmas Day, on Christmas Day? Pray whither sailed those ships all three, On Christmas Day in the morning?

O they sailed into Bethlehem, On Christmas Day, on Christmas Day; O they sailed into Bethlehem, On Christmas Day in the morning.

And all the bells on Earth shall ring, On Christmas Day, on Christmas Day; And all the bells on Earth shall ring, On Christmas Day in the morning.

And all the angels in Heaven shall sing, On Christmas Day, on Christmas Day; And all the angels in Heaven shall sing, On Christmas Day in the morning.

And all the souls on Earth shall sing, On Christmas Day, on Christmas Day; And all the souls on Earth shall sing, On Christmas Day in the morning.

OLD CAROL

NOËL

I

On a winter’s night long time ago (_The bells ring loud and the bells ring low_), When high howled wind, and down fell snow (Carillon, Carilla). Saint Joseph he and Nostre Dame, Riding on an ass, full weary came From Nazareth into Bethlehem. And the small child Jesus smile on you.

II

And Bethlehem inn they stood before (_The bells ring less and the bells ring more_), The landlord bade them begone from his door (Carillon, Carilla). “Poor folk” (says he), “must lie where they may, For the Duke of Jewry comes this way, With all his train on Christmas Day.” And the small child Jesus smile on you.

III

Poor folk that may my carol hear (_The bells ring single and the bells ring clear_), See! God’s one child had hardest cheer! (Carillon, Carilla). Men grown hard on a Christmas morn; The dumb beast by and a babe forlorn. It was very, very cold when our Lord was born. And the small child Jesus smile on you.

IV

Now these were Jews as Jews must be (_The bells ring merry and the bells ring free_). But Christian men in a band are we (Carillon, Carilla). Empty we go, and ill be-dight, Singing Noël on a winter’s night. Give up to sup by the warm firelight, And the small child Jesus smile on you.

HILAIRE BELLOC

UNTO US A SON IS GIVEN

Given, not lent, And not withdrawn—once sent— This Infant of mankind, this One, Is still the little welcome Son.

New every year, New-born and newly dear, He comes with tidings and a song, The ages long, the ages long.

Even as the cold Keen winter grows not old, As childhood is so fresh, foreseen, And spring in the familiar green.

Sudden as sweet Come the expected feet; All joy is young, and new all art, And He, too, whom we have by heart.

ALICE MEYNELL

VERSES FROM THE SHEPHERD’S HYMN

We saw Thee in Thy balmy nest, Young dawn of our eternal day; We saw Thine eyes break from the East And chase the trembling shades away: We saw Thee, and we blest the sight, We saw Thee by Thine own sweet light.

Poor world, said I, what wilt thou do To entertain this starry stranger? Is this the best thou canst bestow— A cold and not too cleanly manger? Contend, the powers of heaven and earth, To fit a bed for this huge birth.

* * * * *

I saw the curl’d drops, soft and slow, Come hovering o’er the place’s head, Off’ring their whitest sheets of snow. To furnish the fair infant’s bed. Forbear, said I, be not too bold; Your fleece is white, but ’tis too cold.

* * * * *

To Thee, meek Majesty, soft King Of simple graces and sweet loves! Each of us his lamb will bring, Each his pair of silver doves! At last, in fire of Thy fair eyes, Ourselves become our own best sacrifice.

RICHARD CRASHAW

VERSES FROM THE HYMN ON THE MORNING OF CHRIST’S NATIVITY

But peaceful was the night Wherein the Prince of light His reign of peace upon the earth began: The winds, with wonder whist, Smoothly the waters kist Whispering new joys to the mild ocean, Who now hath quite forgot to rave, While birds of calm sit brooding on the charmèd wave.

* * * * *

The shepherds on the lawn, Or ere the point of dawn, Sat simply chatting in a rustic row; Full little thought they than, That the mighty Pan Was kindly come to live with them below: Perhaps their loves, or else their sheep, Was all that did their silly thoughts so busy keep.

When such music sweet Their hearts and ears did greet, As never was by mortal finger strook, Divinely-warbled voice Answering the stringèd noise, As all their souls in blissful rapture took; The air such pleasure loth to lose, With thousand echoes still prolongs each heavenly close.

* * * * *

Ring out, ye crystal spheres, Once bless our human ears, (If ye have power to touch our senses so) And let your silver chime Move in melodious time; And let the bass of Heaven’s deep organ blow, And with your ninefold harmony Make up full consort to the angelic symphony.

For if such holy song Enwrap our fancy long, Time will run back and fetch the age of gold, And speckled Vanity Will sicken soon and die, And leprous Sin will melt from earthly mould, And Hell itself will pass away, And leave her dolorous mansions to the peering day.

* * * * *

But see! the Virgin blest, Hath laid her Babe to rest, Time is our tedious song should here have ending, Heaven’s youngest teemèd star, Hath fix’d her polish’d car, Her sleeping Lord with hand-maid lamp attending: And all about the courtly stable, Bright-harness’d Angels sit in order serviceable.

JOHN MILTON

FROM “IN MEMORIAM”

Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky, The flying cloud, the frosty light: The year is dying in the night; Ring out, wild bells, and let him die.

Ring out the old, ring in the new, Ring, happy bells, across the snow: The year is going, let him go; Ring out the false, ring in the true.

Ring out the grief that saps the mind, For those that here we see no more; Ring out the feud of rich and poor, Ring in redress to all mankind.

* * * * *

Ring out the want, the care, the sin, The faithless coldness of the times; Ring out, ring out my mournful rhymes, But ring in the fuller minstrel in.

* * * * *

Ring out old shapes of foul disease; Ring out the narrowing lust of gold; Ring out the thousand wars of old, Ring in the thousand years of peace.

Ring in the valiant man and free, The larger heart, the kindlier hand; Ring out the darkness of the land, Ring in the Christ that is to be.

ALFRED TENNYSON