CHRISTMAS.

The night that erst no name had worn
To it a happy name is given:
For in that stable lay, new-born,

The peaceful Prince of earth and heaven,
In the solemn midnight,

Centuries ago!

ALFRED DOMMETT.

R

Christmas.

ING 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 a slowly dying cause,

And ancient forms of party strife; Ring in the nobler modes of life, With sweeter manners, purer laws.

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

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Ring out false pride in place and blood,
The civic slander and the spite:

Ring in the love of truth and right,
Ring in the common love of good.

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.

B

Epiphany.

RIGHTEST and best of the sons of the morning!

Dawn on our darkness, and lend us thine aid:

Star of the East, the horizon adorning,

Guide where our infant Redeemer is laid!

Cold on his cradle the dewdrops are shining,
Low lies his head with the beasts of the stall;

Angels adore him in slumber reclining,

Maker, and Monarch, and Saviour of all.

Say, shall we yield him, in costly devotion,
Odors of Edom, and offerings divine?
Gems of the mountain, and pearls of the ocean,
Myrrh from the forest, or gold from the mine?

Vainly we offer each ample oblation,

Vainly with gifts would his favor secure ;

Richer by far is the heart's adoration;

Dearer to God are the prayers of the poor.

THE STAR OF BETHLEHEM.

Brightest and best of the sons of the morning!
Dawn on our darkness, and lend us thine aid:
Star of the East, the horizon adorning,

Guide where our infant Redeemer is laid !

BISHOP HEBER.

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The Star of Bethlehem.

HEN marshaled on the nightly plain,

WHEN

The glittering host bestud the sky;

One star alone of all the train

Can fix the sinner's wandering eye.

Hark! hark! to God the chorus breaks
From every host, from every gem;
But one alone the Saviour speaks,
It is the Star of Bethlehem.

Once on the raging seas I rode,

The storm was loud, the night was dark,

The ocean yawned—and rudely blowed

The wind that tossed my foundering bark.

Deep horror then my vitals froze,

Death-struck-I ceased the tide to stem; When suddenly a star arose,

It was the Star of Bethlehem.

It was my guide, my light, my all;

It bade my dark forebodings cease;
And through the storm, and danger's thrall,
It led me to the port of peace.

Now safely moored-my perils o'er,
I'll sing, first in night's diadem,
Forever and for evermore,

The Star!-the Star of Bethlehem!

HENRY KIRKE WHITE.

The Crucifixion.

BOUND upon the accursed tree,

Faint and bleeding—who is He? By the eyes so pale and dim, Streaming blood and writhing limb; By the flesh with scourges torn, By the crown of twisted thorn, By the side so deeply pierced, By the baffled, burning thirst, By the drooping, death-dewed brow, Son of Man! 'tis Thou, 'tis Thou!

Bound upon the accursed tree,
Dread and awful-who is He?
By the sun at noonday pale,
Shivering rocks, and rending veil;
By earth that trembles at his doom,
By yonder saints who burst their tomb,
By Eden, promised ere he died

To the felon at his side,

Lord! our suppliant knees we bow,

Son of God! 'tis Thou, 'tis Thou!

Bound upon the accursed tree,
Sad and dying—who is He?
By the last and bitter cry,
The ghost given up in agony;
By the lifeless body laid

In the chambers of the dead;
By the mourners come to weep
Where the bones of Jesus sleep;
Crucified! we know thee now-
Son of Man! 'tis Thou, 'tis Thou!

THE CRUCIFIXION.

Bound upon the accursed tree,

Dread and awful-who is He?

By the prayer for them that slew

"Lord! they know not what they do!"
By the spoiled and empty grave,

By the souls he died to save,
By the conquests he hath won,
By the saints before his throne,

By the rainbow round his brow,

Son of God! 'tis Thou, 'tis Thou!

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HENRY HART MILMAN.

I

The Crucifixion.

From the Italian.

ASKED the heavens: "What foe to God hath done
This unexampled deed?" The heavens exclaim,

"Twas man, and we in horror snatched the sun

From such a spectacle of guilt and shame!”

I asked the sea; the sea in fury boiled,

And answered with his voice of storm, "'T was man ; My waves in panic at the crime recoiled,

Disclosed the abyss, and from the center ran!" I asked the earth; the earth replied, aghast,

"'T was man, and such strange pangs my bosom rent, That still I groan and shudder at the past!"

To man, gay, smiling, thoughtless man I went, And asked him next; he turned a scornful eye, Shook his proud head, and deigned me no reply. JAMES MONTGOMERY.