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New Prince New Pomp
ROBERT SOUTHWELL Behold a simple, tender Bab...

The Two Princes
A STORY FOR CHILDREN. I. There was a King of Hu...

Santa Claus At Simpson's Bar
BRET HARTE It was nearly midnight when the festiviti...

A Prayer At Bethlehem
ANNE P.L. FIELD O pulsing earth with heart a...

The Felling Of The Tree
A swift mountain-flood rolling down its channel; a hu...

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

A Christmas Hymn
ALFRED DOMETT It was the calm and silent nig...





Church Decking At Christmas






WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

Would that our scrupulous sires had dared to leave
Less scanty measure of those graceful rites
And usages, whose due return invites
A stir of mind too natural to deceive;
Giving the memory help when she could weave
A crown for Hope!--I dread the boasted lights
That all too often are but fiery blights,
Killing the bud o'er which in vain we grieve.
Go, seek, when Christmas snows discomfort bring,
The counter Spirit found in some gay church
Green with fresh holly, every pew a perch
In which the linnet or the thrush might sing,
Merry and loud, and safe from prying search,
Strains offered only to the genial spring.





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