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Christmas Carol
JAMES S. PARK So crowded was the little town...

The Angels
WILLIAM DRUMMOND Run, shepherds, run where B...

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

A Christmas Dream And How It Came True
"I'm so tired of Christmas I wish there never would b...

Carol
O Child of Mary's tender care! O little Child ...

The Fir-tree
HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN OUT in the woods stood a n...

Good-nature Or Parish Matters
Mr. Stanley had just reached the last stile in the ...





The Shepherds






WILLIAM DRUMMOND, OF HAWTHORNDEN

O than the fairest day, thrice fairer night!
Night to blest days in which a sun doth rise
Of which that golden eye which clears the skies
Is but a sparkling ray, a shadow-light!
And blessed ye, in silly pastor's sight,
Mild creatures, in whose warm crib now lies
That heaven-sent youngling, holy-maid-born wight,
Midst, end, beginning of our prophecies!

Blest cottage that hath flowers in winter spread,
Though withered--blessed grass that hath the grace
To deck and be a carpet to that place!
Thus sang, unto the sounds of oaten reed,
Before the Babe, the shepherds bowed on knees;
And springs ran nectar, honey dropped from trees.





Next: A Christmas Carol

Previous: The Glad Evangel



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