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So Now Is Come Our Joyfulst Feast
GEORGE WITHER So, now is come our joyfulst f...

The Shadow Of The Thunder-oak
Withered leaves still clung to the branches of th...

A Christmas Star
KATHERINE PYLE "COME now, my dear little stars," s...

Christmas And Rome
The first Christmas this in which a Roman Senate has ...

On Good Wishes At Christmas
FRISWELL At Christmas, which is a good holiday for m...

The Philanthropist's Christmas
JAMES WEBER LINN "DID you see this committee yeste...

The Glorious Song Of Old
EDMUND H. SEARS It came upon the midnight cl...





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.





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Previous: The Glad Evangel



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