Christmas anthology

 Following a star

Brightest and Best of the Sons of the Morning

Painted stars on a blue background; from sxc.hu

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.

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.

Shall we not yield Him, in costly devotion

Odours of Edom and offerings divine,

Gems of the mountain and pearls of the ocean,

Myrrh from the forest and gold from the mine?

Vainly we offer each ample oblation,

Vainly with gifts would His favour secure.

Richer by far is the heart's adoration;

Dearer to God are the prayers of the poor.

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.

Reginald Heber, 1811

from The Star-Song: A Carol to the King

[King 1] Tell us, thou clear and heavenly tongue,

Where is the Babe but lately sprung?

Lies He the lily-banks among?

[King 2] 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.

[King 3] 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

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

The Christ-child lay on Mary's lap,

His hair was like a light.

(O weary, weary were the world,

But here is all aright.)

The Christ-child lay on Mary's breast

His hair was like a star.

(O stern and cunning are the kings,

But here the true hearts are.)

The Christ-child lay on Mary's heart,

His hair was like a fire.

(O weary, weary is the world,

But here the world's desire.)

The Christ-child stood on Mary's knee,

His hair was like a crown,

And all the flowers looked up at Him,

And all the stars looked down.

G.K. Chesterton

Around the manger

The Christmas Silence

A mottled white pigeon, roosting in the rafters of a barn, looks sleepily down; from sxc.hu

Hushed are the pigeons cooing low

On dusty rafters of the loft;

And mild-eyed oxen, breathing soft,

Sleep on the fragrant hay below.

Dim shadows in the corner hide;

The glimmering lantern's rays are shed

Where one young lamb just lifts his head,

Then huddles 'gainst his mother's side.

Strange silence tingles in the air;

Through the half-open door a bar

Of light from one low-hanging star

Touches a baby's radiant hair.

No sound: the mother, kneeling, lays

Her cheek against the little face.

Oh human love! Oh heavenly grace!

'Tis yet in silence that she prays!

Ages of silence end to-night;

Then to the long-expectant earth

Glad angels come to greet His birth

In burst of music, love, and light!

Margaret Deland

Cradled in a Manger meanly

Cradled in a manger, meanly,

Laid the Son of Man His head;

Sleeping His first earthly slumber

Where the oxen had been fed.

Happy were those shepherds listening

To the holy angel's word;

Happy they within that stable

Worshipping their infant Lord.

Happy all who hear the message

Of His coming from above;

Happier still who hail His coming,

And with praises greet His love.

Blessèd Saviour, Christ most holy,

In a manger Thou didst rest;

Canst Thou stoop again, yet lower,

And abide within my breast?

Evil things are there before Thee;

In the heart, where they have fed,

Wilt Thou pitifully enter,

Son of Man, and lay Thy head?

Enter, then, O Christ most holy;

Make a Christmas in my heart;

Make a heaven of my manger:

It is heaven where Thou art.

And to those who never listened

To the message of Thy birth,

Who have winter, but no Christmas

Bringing them Thy peace on earth,

Send to these the joyful tidings;

By all people, in each home,

Be there heard the Christmas anthem;

Praise to God, the Christ has come!

George S. Rowe, 1879

As with Gladness Men of Old

As with gladness, men of old

Did the guiding star behold

As with joy they hailed its light

Leading onward, beaming bright

So, most glorious Lord, may we

Evermore be led to Thee.

As with joyful steps they sped

To that lowly manger bed

There to bend the knee before

Him Whom Heaven and earth adore;

So may we with willing feet

Ever seek Thy mercy seat.

As they offered gifts most rare

At that manger rude and bare;

So may we with holy joy,

Pure and free from sin's alloy,

All our costliest treasures bring,

Christ, to Thee, our heavenly King.

Holy Jesus, every day

Keep us in the narrow way;

And, when earthly things are past,

Bring our ransomed souls at last

Where they need no star to guide,

Where no clouds Thy glory hide.

In the heavenly country bright,

Need they no created light;

Thou its Light, its Joy, its Crown,

Thou its Sun which goes not down;

There forever may we sing

Alleluias to our King!

William C. Dix, 1867

The Adoration of the Wise Men (Saw you Never in the Twilight)

Saw you never in the twilight,

When the sun had left the skies,

Up in heaven the clear stars shining,

Through the gloom like silver eyes?

So of old the wise men watching,

Saw a little stranger star,

And they knew the King was given,

And they follow'd it from far.

Heard you never of the story,

How they cross'd the desert wild,

Journey'd on by plain and mountain,

Till they found the Holy Child?

How they open'd all their treasure,

Kneeling to that Infant King,

Gave the gold and fragrant incense,

Gave the myrrh in offering?

Know ye not that lowly Baby

Was the bright and morning star,

He who came to light the Gentiles,

And the darken'd isles afar?

And we too may seek His cradle,

There our heart's best treasures bring,

Love, and Faith, and true devotion,

For our Saviour, God, and King.

Cecil Frances Alexander

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Songs of shepherds

While Shepherds Watched their Flocks by Night

Sheep walk outside a wooden stable in the snow. © istockphoto.com/Catherine and Ivan Oakeson

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;

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 Shepherds in Judea

Oh, the Shepherds in Judea,

They are pacing to and fro,

For the air grows chill at twilight

And the weanling lambs are slow!

Leave, O lambs, the dripping sedges, quit the bramble and the brier,

Leave the fields of barley stubble, for we light the watching fire;

Twinkling fires across the twilight, and a bitter watch to keep,

Lest the prowlers come a-thieving where the flocks unguarded sleep.

Oh, the Shepherds in Judea,

They are singing soft and low--

Song the blessed angels taught them

All the centuries ago!

There was never roof to hide them, there were never walls to bind;

Stark they lie beneath the star-beams, whom the blessed angels find,

With the huddled flocks upstarting, wondering if they hear aright,

While the Kings come riding, riding, solemn shadows in the night.

Oh, the Shepherds in Judea,

They are thinking, as they go,

Of the light that broke their watching

On the hillside in the snow!--

Scattered snow along the hillside, white as springtime fleeces are,

With the whiter wings above them and the glory-streaming star--

Guiding-star across the housetops; never fear the Shepherds felt

Till they found the Babe in manger where the kindly cattle knelt.

Oh, the Shepherds in Judea!--

Do you think the Shepherds know

How the whole round earth is brightened

In the ruddy Christmas glow?

How the sighs are lost in laughter, and the laughter brings the tears,

As the thoughts of men go seeking back across the darkling years

Till they find the wayside stable that the star-led Wise Men found,

With the Shepherds, mute, adoring, and the glory shining round!

Mary Austin, 1900

Hymn For The Nativity

Happy night and happy silence downward softly stealing,

Softly stealing over land and sea,

Stars from golden censers swing a silent eager feeling

Down on Judah, down on Galilee;

And all the wistful air, and earth, and sky,

Listened, listened for the gladness of a cry.

Holy night, a sudden flash of light its way is winging:

Angels, angels, all above, around;

Hark, the angel voices, hark, the angel voices singing;

And the sheep are lying on the ground.

Lo, all the wistful air, and earth, and sky,

Listen, listen to the gladness of the cry.

Happy night at Bethlehem; soft little hands are feeling,

Feeling in the manger with the kine:

Little hands, and eyelids closed in sleep, while angels kneeling,

Mary mother, hymn the Babe Divine.

Lo, all the wistful air, and earth, and sky,

Listen, listen to the gladness of the cry.

Wide, as if the light were music, flashes adoration:

"Glory be to God, nor ever cease,"

All the silence thrills, and speeds the message of salvation:

"Peace on earth, good-will to men of peace."

Lo, all the wistful air, and earth, and sky,

Listen, listen to the gladness of the cry.

Holy night, thy solemn silence evermore enfoldeth

Angels' songs and peace from God on high:

Holy night, thy watcher still with faithful eye beholdeth

Wings that wave, and angel glory nigh,

Lo, hushed is strife in air, and earth, and sky,

Still thy watchers hear the gladness of the cry.

Praise Him, ye who watch the night, the silent night of ages:

Praise Him, shepherds, praise the Holy Child;

Praise Him, ye who hear the light, O praise Him, all ye sages;

Praise Him, children, praise Him meek and mild.

Lo, peace on Earth, glory to God on high,

Listen, listen to the gladness of the cry.

Edward Thring, 1887

Christmas Song (Calm on the Listening Ear of Night)

Calm on the listening ear of night

Come heaven's melodious strains,

Where wild Judea stretches far

Her silver-mantled plains;

Celestial choirs from courts above

Shed sacred glories there;

And angels with their sparkling lyres

Make music on the air.

The answering hills of Palestine

Send back the glad reply,

And greet from all their holy heights

The day-spring from on high:

O'er the blue depths of Galilee

There comes a holier calm,

And Sharon waves, in solemn praise,

Her silent groves of palm.

"Glory to God!" The lofty strain

The realm of ether fills:

How sweeps the song of solemn joy

O'er Judah's sacred hills!

"Glory to God!" The sounding skies

Loud with their anthems ring;

"Peace on the earth; good-will to men,

From heaven's eternal King!"

Light on thy hills, Jerusalem!

The Saviour now is born:

More bright on Bethlehem's joyous plains

Breaks the first Christmas morn;

And brighter on Moriah's brow,

Crowned with her temple-spires,

Which first proclaim the new-born light,

Clothed with its Orient fires.

This day shall Christian lips be mute,

And Christian hearts be cold?

Oh, catch the anthem that from heaven

O'er Judah's mountains rolled!

When nightly burst from seraph-harps

The high and solemn lay,--

"Glory to God! on earth be peace;

Salvation comes to-day!"

Edmund Hamilton Sears, 1854

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The rising of the sun

from Hamlet, Act I, Scene i

Some say that ever 'gainst that season comes

Wherein our Saviour's birth is celebrated,

The bird of dawning singeth all night long:

And then, they say, no spirit dares stir abroad;

The nights are wholesome; then no planets strike,

No fairy takes, nor witch hath power to charm,

So hallow'd and so gracious is the time.

William Shakespeare

The rising sun illuminates snow-covered fields; from sxc.hu

Bethlehem Town

There burns a star o'er Bethlehem town --

See, O my eyes!

And gloriously it beameth down

Upon a virgin mother meek

And Him whom solemn Magi seek.

Burn on, O star! and be the light

To guide us all to Him this night!

The angels walk in Bethlehem town --

Hush, O my heart!

The angels come and bring a crown

To Him, our Saviour and our King;

And sweetly all this night they sing.

Sing on in rapturous angel throng

That we may learn that heavenly song!

Near Bethlehem town there blooms a tree --

O heart, beat low!

And it shall stand on Calvary!

But from the shade thereof we turn

Unto the star that still shall burn

When Christ is dead and risen again

To mind us that he died for men.

There is a cry in Bethlehem town --

Hark, O my soul!

'T is of the Babe that wears the crown.

It telleth us that man is free --

That He redeemeth all and me!

The night is sped -- behold the morn!

Sing, O my soul; the Christ is born!

Eugene Field

A Day, a Day of Glory

A day, a day of glory!

A day that ends our woe!

A day that tells of triumph

Against our vanquish'd foe!

Yield, summer's brightest sunrise,

To this December morn:

Life up your gates, ye Princes

And let the Child be born!

With Gloria in excelsis

Archangels tell their mirth:

With Kyrie eleyson

Men answer upon the earth:

And angels swell the triumph,

And mortals raise the horn,

Life up you gates, ye Princes,

And let the Child be born.

He comes, His throne the manger;

He comes, His shrine the stall;

The ox and ass His courtiers,

Who made and governs all:

The "House of Bread" His birth place,

The Prince of wine and corn:

Lift up your gates, ye Princes,

And let the Child be born.

Then bar the gates, that henceforth

None thus may passage win,

Because the Prince of Israel

Alone hath entered in:

The earth, the sky, the ocean

His glorious way adorn:

Lift up your gates, ye Princes,

And let the Child be born.

John Mason Neale

The Holly and the Ivy

The holly and the ivy,

When they are both full grown

Of all the trees that are in the wood

The holly bears the crown

(Chorus:) O the rising of the sun

And the running of the deer

The playing of the merry organ

Sweet singing of the choir

The holly bears a blossom

As white as lily flower

And Mary bore sweet Jesus Christ

To be our sweet Saviour

The holly bears a berry

As red as any blood

And Mary bore sweet Jesus Christ

To do poor sinners good

The holly bears a prickle

As sharp as any thorn;

And Mary bore sweet Jesus Christ

On Christmas Day in the morn.

The holly bears a bark

As bitter as any gall;

And Mary bore sweet Jesus Christ

For to redeem us all.

The holly and the ivy

Now both are full well grown,

Of all the trees that are in the wood,

The holly bears the crown.

O the rising of the sun

And the running of the deer

The playing of the merry organ

Sweet singing of the choir.

Traditional; new words by Cecil Sharp

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For the lonely and bereaved

from An Old Man's Christmas Morning

Th' dull saand o' th' church bells coom to tell me one moor Christmas mornin',

Had come, for its welcome--but ha could aw welcome it when all aloan?

For th' snow wor fallin soa thickly, an' th' cold wind wor moanin,

An' them 'at aw lov'd wor asleep i' that cold church yard, under a stoan:

Soa aw went to bed an' aw slept, an' then began dreamin,

'At mi wife stood by mi side, an' smiled, an' mi heart left off its beatin',

An' aw put aat mi hand, an' awoke, an' mornin' wor gleamin';

An' it's made me feel sorrowful, an aw cannot give ovver freatin.

For aw think what a glorious Christmas day 'twod ha' been,

If awd goan to that place, where ther's noa moor cares, nor partin', nor sorrow,

For aw know shoo's thear, or that dream aw sud nivver ha' seen,

But aw'll try to be patient, an' maybe shoo'll come fotch me to-morrow.

John Hartley

A bare tree stands lonely in the snow. © istockphoto.com/Yanik Chauvin

The Peace of Christmas-Time

Dearest, how hard it is to say

That all is for the best,

Since, sometimes, in a grievous way

God's will is manifest.

See with what hearty, noisy glee

Our little ones to-night

Dance round and round our Christmas tree

With pretty toys bedight.

Dearest, one voice they may not hear,

One face they may not see --

Ah, what of all this Christmas cheer

Cometh to you and me?

Cometh before our misty eyes

That other little face,

And we clasp, in tender, reverent wise,

That love in the old embrace.

Dearest, the Christ-child walks to-night,

Bringing his peace to men,

And he bringeth to you and to me the light

Of the old, old years again.

Bringeth the peace of long ago,

When a wee one clasped your knee

And lisped of the morrow -- dear one, you know --

And here come back is he!

Dearest, 't is sometimes hard to say

That all is for the best,

For, often, in a grievous way

God's will is manifest.

But in the grace of this holy night

That bringeth us back our child,

Let us see that the ways of God are right,

And so be reconciled.

Eugene Field

Bells Across the Snow

O Christmas, merry Christmas!

Is it really come again,

With its memories and greetings,

With its joy and with its pain?

There's a minor in the carol,

And a shadow in the light,

And a spray of cypress twining

With the holly wreath to-night.

And the hush is never broken

By laughter light and low,

As we listen in the starlight

To the "bells across the snow."

O Christmas, merry Christmas!

'Tis not so very long

Since other voices blended

With the carol and the song!

If we could but hear them singing

As they are singing now,

If we could but see the radiance

Of the crown on each dear brow;

There would be no sigh to smother,

No hidden tear to flow,

As we listen in the starlight

To the "bells across the snow."

O Christmas, merry Christmas!

This never more can be;

We cannot bring again the days

Of our unshadowed glee.

But Christmas, happy Christmas,

Sweet herald of good-will,

With holy songs of glory

Brings holy gladness still.

For peace and hope may brighten,

And patient love may glow,

As we listen in the starlight

To the "bells across the snow."

Francis Ridley Havergal

A Christmas prayer for lonely folks

Lord God of the solitary,

Look upon me in my loneliness.

Since I may not keep this Christmas in the home,

Send it into my heart.

Let not my sins cloud me in,

But shine through them with forgiveness in the face of the child Jesus.

Put me in loving remembrance of the lowly lodging in the stable of Bethlehem,

The sorrows of the blessed Mary, the poverty and exile of the Prince of Peace.

For His sake, give me a cheerful courage to endure my lot,

And an inward comfort to sweeten it.

Purge my heart from hard and bitter thoughts.

Let no shadow of forgetting come between me and friends far away:

Bless them in their Christmas mirth:

Hedge me in with faithfulness,

That I may not grow unworthy to meet them again.

Give me good work to do,

That I may forget myself and find peace in doing it for Thee.

Though I am poor, send me to carry some gift to those who are poorer,

Some cheer to those who are more lonely.

Grant me the joy to do a kindness to one of Thy little ones:

Light my Christmas candle at the gladness of an innocent and grateful heart.

Strange is the path where Thou leadest me:

Let me not doubt Thy wisdom, nor lose Thy hand.

Make me sure that Eternal Love is revealed in Jesus, Thy dear Son,

To save us from sin and solitude and death.

Teach me that I am not alone,

But that many hearts, all round the world,

Join with me through the silence, while I pray in His name:

Our Father which art in heaven, hallowed be Thy name.

Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done in earth, as it is in heaven.

Give us this day our daily bread. And forgive us our debts, as we forgive our debtors.

And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil:

For Thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory, forever. Amen.

Henry Van Dyke