Christmas Part 6

Once in Royal David's city Stood a lowly cattle shed, Where a mother laid her baby In a manger for His bed.

Mary was that mother mild, Jesus Christ that little child.

He came down to earth from Heaven, Who is G.o.d and Lord of all.

And his shelter was a stable, And his cradle was a stall.

With the poor and mean and lowly, Lived on earth our Saviour Holy.

And our eyes at last shall see Him Through His own redeeming love, For that child so dear and gentle Is our Lord in Heaven above; And He leads His children on To the place where He is gone.

Not in that poor, lowly stable, With the oxen standing by, We shall see Him; but in Heaven, Set at G.o.d's right hand on high, When, like stars, His children crowned All in white, shall wait around.

CHRISTMAS

NAHUM TATE

While shepherds watch'd their flocks by night, All seated on the ground, The angel of the Lord came down, And glory shone around.

"Fear not," said he (for mighty dread Had seized their troubled mind); "Glad tidings of great joy I bring To you and all mankind.

"To you, in David's town, this day Is born of David's line The Saviour who is Christ the Lord; And this shall be the sign:

"The heavenly Babe you there shall find To human view display'd, All meanly wrapt in swathing bands, And in a manger laid."

Thus spake the Seraph; and forthwith Appear'd a s.h.i.+ning throng Of angels, praising G.o.d, and thus Address'd their joyful song:

"All glory be to G.o.d on high, And to the earth be peace; Good-will henceforth from heaven to men Begin, and never cease!"

"WHILE SHEPHERDS WATCHED THEIR FLOCKS BY NIGHT"

MARGARET DELAND

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 gra.s.s 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; 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!

COLONIAL CHRISTMASES

ALICE MORSE EARLE

[From "Customs and Fas.h.i.+ons in Old New England."]

The first century of colonial life saw few set times and days for pleasure. The holy days of the English Church were as a stench to the Puritan nostrils, and their public celebration was at once rigidly forbidden by the laws of New England. New holidays were not quickly evolved, and the sober gatherings for matters of Church and State for a time took their place. The hatred of "wanton Baccha.n.a.llian Christma.s.ses"

spent throughout England, as Cotton said, in "revelling, dicing, carding, masking, mumming, consumed in compotations, in interludes, in excess of wine, in mad mirth," was the natural reaction of intelligent and thoughtful minds against the excesses of a festival which had ceased to be a Christian holiday, but was dominated by a lord of misrule who did not hesitate to invade the churches in time of service, in his noisy revels and sports. English Churchmen long ago revolted also against such Christmas observance.

Of the first Pilgrim Christmas we know but little, save that it was spent, as was many a later one, in work....

By 1659 the Puritans had grown to hate Christmas more and more; it was, to use Shakespeare's words, "the bug that feared them all." The very name smacked to them of incense, stole, and monkish jargon; any person who observed it as a holiday by forbearing of labor, feasting, or any other way was to pay five s.h.i.+llings fine, so desirous were they to "beate down every sprout of Episcopacie." Judge Sewall watched jealously the feeling of the people with regard to Christmas, and noted with pleasure on each succeeding year the continuance of common traffic throughout the day. Such entries as this show his att.i.tude: "Dec. 25, 1685. Carts come to town and shops open as usual. Some somehow observe the day, but are vexed I believe that the Body of people profane it, and blessed be G.o.d no authority yet to compel them to keep it." When the Church of England established Christmas services in Boston a few years later, we find the Judge waging hopeless war against Governor Belcher over it, and hear him praising his son for not going with other boy friends to hear the novel and attractive services. He says: "I dehort mine from Christmas keeping and charge them to forbear."

Christmas could not be regarded till this century as a New England holiday, though in certain localities, such as old Narragansett--an opulent community which was settled by Episcopalians--two weeks of Christmas visiting and feasting were entered into with zest by both planters and slaves for many years previous to the revolution.

THE ANGELS

WILLIAM DRUMMOND

Run, shepherds, run where Bethlehem blest appears.

We bring the best of news; be not dismayed: A Saviour there is born more old than years, Amidst heaven's rolling height this earth who stayed.

In a poor cottage inned, a virgin maid, A weakling did him bear, who all upbears; There is he poorly swaddled, in manger laid, To whom too narrow swaddlings are our spheres: Run, shepherds, run, and solemnize his birth.

This is that night--no, day, grown great with bliss, In which the power of Satan broken is: In heaven be glory, peace unto the earth!

Thus singing, through the air the angels swarm, And cope of stars re-echoed the same.

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 blus.h.i.+ng 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.

HYMN FOR CHRISTMAS

FELICIA HEMANS

Oh! lovely voices of the sky Which hymned the Saviour's birth, Are ye not singing still on high, Ye that sang, "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 s.h.i.+ning light, whose beams That hour Heaven's glory shed, Around the palms, and o'er the streams, And on the shepherd's head.

Be near, through life and death, As in that holiest night Of hope, and joy, and faith-- Oh! clear and s.h.i.+ning light!

NEW PRINCE, NEW POMP

ROBERT SOUTHWELL