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Christmas Day
CHARLES WESLEY Hark! the herald angels sing ...

A Christmas Matinee
MRS. M. A. L. LANE IT WAS the day before Christmas...

Is There A Santa Claus?
_The following, reprinted from the editorial page of th...

The Glad Evangel
KATE DOUGLAS WIGGIN When the Child of Nazareth w...

A Story Of The Christ-child
A German legend for Christmas Eve as told by ELIZABE...

A Christmas Insurrection
ANNE P.L. FIELD In the hush of a shivery Chr...

Daily Bread
I. A QUESTION OF NOURISHMENT. "And how is he?" ...





An Ode On The Birth Of Our Saviour






ROBERT HERRICK

In numbers, and but these few,
I sing thy birth, O Jesu!
Thou pretty baby, born here
With sup'rabundant scorn here;
Who for thy princely port here,
Hadst for thy place
Of birth, a base
Out-stable for thy court here.

Instead of neat enclosures
Of interwoven osiers,
Instead of fragrant posies
Of daffodils and roses,
Thy cradle, kingly stranger,
As gospel tells,
Was nothing else
But here a homely manger.

But we with silks, not crewels,
With sundry precious jewels,
And lily work will dress thee,
And, as we dispossess thee
Of clouts, we'll make a chamber,
Sweet babe, for thee
Of ivory,
And plaster'd round with amber.





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