Still as the day comes round

For Thee to be revealed,

By wakeful shepherds Thou art found,

Abiding in the field.

All through the wintry heaven and chill night air,
In music and in light Thou dawnest on their prayer.

Oh faint not ye for fear;

What though your wandering sheep,
Reckless of what they say and hear,
Lie lost in wilful sleep?

High Heaven, in mercy to your sad annoy,
Still greets you with glad tidings of immortal joy.

Think on the eternal home

The Saviour left for you;
Think on the Lord most holy, come

To dwell with hearts untrue :

So shall ye tread untired His pastoral ways,
And in the darkness sing your carol of high praise.

"Blithest carol, sweetest chime,

Hearts that dance to peal and rhyme,
Welcome in the happy time!

A LITTLE CHRISTMAS SERMON.

"Starry tree, shine out anew, Glittering as with golden dew, Gay with fruits of every hue!"

This is what ye said, I trow :
Little children hearken now,
Ere ye pluck the freighted bough;

Ponder what the carols mean;

What the chime rung out between ;

What the laden evergreen.

"Glory be to God most high!" Sang His angels in the sky,

When the Lord to men drew nigh.

"Peace on earth-goodwill and peace; Love shall reign, and wrong shall cease; He is born-The Prince of Peace!"

Just for love of us He came,
Took His sweetly tender name—
Jesus! stoopèd to our shame.

"I will save you," thus He said:
"I am life: your life is dead;
I will give you life instead!"

Little children, closest prest
To the loving Saviour's breast,
Surely ye must love Him best!

This is love to do His will;
Speaking truth; forsaking ill;
Bearing and forbearing still;

Battling selfishness within,
(Where He only sees the sin,)
Till through Him at last ye win;

Sorrowing over every evil wrought; Open deed or secret thought; Straightway doing as ye ought;

Blessing all for His dear sake,
As His blessing ye partake;
Happier, thus, His world to make.

This is love a service light,
Done with all your little might;
None shall fail to do it right.

Let your little hearts reply
To the angels in the sky:
"Love shall reign eternally!

"God is love for evermore :
Love we Him, and Him adore,
In the Christ-child born of yore."

Let your lives ring out His praise,
Like a chime His finger sways;
Sweet as carols be your days.

Beautiful with holiness,

Let your daily deeds confess

In whose Name ye seek to bless.

This is what the carols mean;
What the chime rung clear between ;
What the bounteous evergreen.

F

ROM frozen climes, and endless tracts of snow,

From streams which northern winds forbid to flow,

What present shall the Muse to Dorset bring,

Or how, so near the pole, attempt to sing?
The hoary winter here conceals from sight
All pleasing objects which to verse invite.
The hills and dales, and the delightful woods,
The flowery plains, and silver-streaming floods,
By snow disguised, in bright confusion lie,
And with one dazzling waste fatigue the eye.

No gentle-breathing breeze prepares the spring, No birds within the desert region sing.

The ships unmoved, the boisterous winds defy.
While rattling chariots o'er the ocean fly.
The vast Leviathan wants room to play,
And spout his waters in the face of day.
The starving wolves along the main sea prowl.
And to the moon in icy valleys howl
O'er many a shining league the level main
Here spreads itself into a glassy plain;
There solid billows of enormous size,
Alps of green ice, in wild disorder rise.

And yet, but lately, have I seen, e’en here. The winter in a lovely dress appear. Ere yet the clouds let fall the treasured snow, Or winds begun through hazy skies to blow ; At evening a keen eastern breeze arose, And the descending rain unsullied froze. Soon as the silent shades of night withdrew, The ruddy morn disclosed at once to view The face of Nature in a rich disguise, And brightened every object to my eyes: For every shrub, and every blade of grass, And every pointed thorn, seemed wrought in glass: In pearls and rubies rich the hawthorn show, While through the ice the crimson berries glow.

The thick-sprung reeds, which watery marshes yield, Seemed polished lances in a hostile field.

The stag, in limpid currents, with surprise,

Sees crystal branches on his forehead rise:

The spreading oak, the beech, and towering pine,
Glazed over, in the freezing ether shine,
The frighted birds the rattling branches shun,
Which wave and glitter in the distant sun.