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

The Survivor's Story
Fortunately we were with our wives. It is in gener...

To The Fir-tree
FROM THE GERMAN O Fir-tree green! O Fir-tree...

Christmas
NAHUM TATE While shepherds watch'd their flo...

Christmas At Fezziwig's Warehouse
CHARLES DICKENS "YO HO! my boys," said Fezziwig. "...

A Christmas Letter From Australia
DOUGLAS SLADEN 'Tis Christmas, and the North win...

Christmas Carol
As Joseph was a-waukin' He heard an angel si...





New Prince New Pomp






ROBERT SOUTHWELL

Behold a simple, tender Babe,
In freezing winter night,
In homely manger trembling lies;
Alas! a piteous sight.

The inns are full; no man will yield
This little Pilgrim bed;
But forced he is with silly beasts
In crib to shroud his head.

Despise him not for lying there;
First what he is inquire:
An Orient pearl is often found
In depth of dirty mire.

Weigh not his crib, his wooden dish,
Nor beasts that by him feed;
Weigh not his mother's poor attire,
Nor Joseph's simple weed.

This stable is a Prince's court,
The crib his chair of state;
The beasts are parcel of his pomp,
The wooden dish his plate.

The persons in that poor attire
His royal liveries wear;
The Prince himself is come from heaven:
This pomp is praised there.

With joy approach, O Christian wight!
Do homage to thy King;
And highly praise this humble pomp,
Which he from heaven doth bring.





Next: The Three Kings

Previous: Hymn For Christmas



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