THE BIRTH OF JESUS ANNOUNCED.

DEEP was the midnight silence in the fields

Of Bethlehem; hush'd the folds; save that, at times,
Was heard the lamb's faint bleat: the shepherds, stretch'd
On the greensward, survey'd the starry vault :
'The heavens declare the glory of the Lord,
The firmament shews forth thy handiwork ;'
Thus they, their hearts attuned to the Most High;
When, suddenly, a splendid cloud appear'd,
As if a portion of the milky way

Descended slowly in a spiral course.

Near and more near it draws; then, hovering, floats, High as the soar of eagle, shedding bright,

Upon the folded flocks, a heavenly radiance,

From whence was utter'd loud, yet sweet, a voice,—
Fear not, I bring good tidings of great joy;
For unto you is born this day a Saviour!
And this shall be a sign to you,—the babe,
Laid lowly in a manger, ye shall find.'
The angel spake; when, lo! upon the cloud,
A multitude of Seraphim, enthroned,
Sang praises, saying, 'Glory to the Lord

On high, on earth be peace, good will to men.'
With sweet response harmoniously they choir'd,
And while, with heavenly harmony, the song
Arose to God, more bright the buoyant throne
Illumed the land: the prowling lion stops,
Awe-struck, with mane uprear'd, and flatten'd head;
And, without turning, backward on his steps
Recoils, aghast, into the desert gloom.

A trembling joy the astonish'd shepherds prove,
As heavenward re-ascends the vocal blaze
Triumphantly; while, by degrees, the strain

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Dies on the ear, that self-deluded listens,
As if a sound so sweet could never die.

BEHOLD MY MOTHER, AND MY BRETHREN !

'WHO is my mother, or my brethren ?'-
He spake, and looked on them who sat around,
With a meek smile of pity blent with love,
More melting than e'er gleam'd from human face,
As when a sun-beam, through a summer shower,
Shines mildly on a little hill-side flock;
And with that look of love he said, 'Behold
My mother, and my brethren: for I say,
That whosoe'er shall do the will of God,
He is my brother, sister, mother, all. '

BARTIMEUS RESTORED TO SIGHT.

BLIND, poor, and helpless, Bartimeus sate,
Listening the foot of the wayfaring man,
Still hoping that the next, and still the next,
Would put an alms into his trembling hand.
He thinks he hears the coming breeze faint rustle
Among the sycamores; it is the tread

Of thousand steps; it is the hum of tongues
Innumerable. But when the sightless man
Heard that the Nazarene was passing by,
He cried, and said, 'Jesus, thou Son of David,
Have mercy upon me!' and, when rebuked,
He cried the more, 'Have mercy upon me.'

'Thy faith hath made thee whole;' so Jesus spake— And straight the blind beheld the face of God.

LITTLE CHILDREN BROUGHT TO JESUS.

'SUFFER that little children come to me,

Forbid them not.' Embolden'd by his words,

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The mothers onward press; but, finding vain

The attempt to reach the Lord, they trust their babes To strangers' hands. The innocents alarm'd,

Amid the throng of faces all unknown,

Shrink trembling, till their wandering eyes discern
The countenance of Jesus, beaming love

And pity; eager then they stretch their arms,
And, cowering, lay their heads upon his breast.

JESUS CALMS THE TEMPEST.

THE roaring tumult of the billow'd sea
Awakes him not; high on the crested surge
Now heaved, his locks flow streaming in the gale;
And now descending 'tween the sheltering waves,
The falling tresses veil the face divine:
Meek through that veil a momentary gleam,
Benignant, shines; he dreams that he beholds
The opening eyes, that long hopeless had roll'd
In darkness, look around bedimm'd with tears
Of joy; but, suddenly, the voice of fear
Dispell'd the happy vision. Awful he rose,
Rebuked the wind, and said unto the sea,
'Peace, be thou still!' and straight there was a calm.
With terror-mingled gladness in their looks,
The mariners exclaim, 'What man is this,
That even the wind and sea obey his voice!'

JESUS WALKS ON THE SEA, AND CALMS THE STORM. LOUD blew the storm of night; the thwarting surge Dash'd, boiling, on the labouring bark: dismay, From face to face reflected, spread around: When, lo! upon a towering wave is seen The semblance of a foamy wreath, upright, Move onward to the ship: the helmsman starts,

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And quits his hold; the voyagers appall'd
Shrink from the fancied Spirit of the Flood:
But when the voice of Jesus with the gale
Soft mingled, 'It is I, be not afraid,'
Fear fled, and joy lighten'd from eye to eye.
Up he ascends, and, from the rolling side,
Surveys the tumult of the sea and sky
With transient look severe the tempest awed
Sinks to a sudden calm; the clouds disperse ;
The moon-beam trembles on the face divine,
Reflected mildly in the unruffled deep.

THE DUMB CURED.

His eyes uplifted, and his hands close clasp'd,
The dumb man, with a supplicating look,
Turn'd as the Lord pass'd by: Jesus beheld,
And on him bent a pitying look, and spake :
His moving lips are by the suppliant seen,
And the last accents of the healing sentence
Ring in that ear which never heard before.
Prostrate the man restored falls to the earth,
And uses first the gift, the gift sublime,
Of speech, in giving thanks to him whose voice
Was never utter'd but in doing good.

THE DEATH OF JESUS.

''Tis finished' he spake the words, and bow'd
His head, and died. Beholding him far off,
They who had minister'd unto him hope
'Tis his last agony. The Temple's veil
Is rent; revealing the most holy place,
Wherein the cherubims their wings extend,
O'ershadowing the mercy-seat of God.
Appall'd, the leaning soldier feels the spear

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Shake in his grasp; the planted standard falls
Upon the heaving ground: the sun is dimm'd,
And darkness shrouds the body of the Lord.

THE RESURRECTION.

THE setting orb of night her level ray
Shed o'er the land, and, on the dewy sward,
The lengthen'd shadows of the triple cross
Were laid far stretch'd, when in the east arose,
Last of the stars, day's harbinger. No sound
Was heard, save of the watching soldier's foot:
Within the rock-barred sepulchre, the gloom
Of deepest midnight brooded o'er the dead,
The holy one; but, lo a radiance faint
Began to dawn around his sacred brow:
The linen vesture seem'd a snowy wreath
Drifted by storms into a mountain cave:

Bright and more bright the circling halo beam'd
Upon that face, clothed in a smile benign,
Though yet exanimate. Nor long the reign
Of death; the eyes, that wept for human griefs,
Unclose, and look around with conscious joy;
Yes, with returning life, the first emotion
That glow'd in Jesus' breast of love was joy
At man's redemption now complete; at death
Disarm'd; the grave transform'd into the couch
Of faith; the resurrection, and the life.
Majestical he rose; trembled the earth;
The ponderous gate of stone was roll'd away;
The keepers fell; the angel, awe-struck, shrunk
Into invisibility, while forth

The Saviour of the World walk'd, and stood
Before the sepulchre, and view'd the clouds.
Empurpled glorious by the rising sun.