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The Christmas Masquerade
MARY E. WILKINS FREEMAN ON Christmas Eve the Mayor...

Mark Well My Heavy Doleful Tale
ANONYMOUS Mark well my heavy doleful tale, ...

Christmas
ROSE TERRY COOKE Here comes old Father Chris...

The Telltale Tile
OLIVE THORNE MILLER IT BEGINS with a bit of gossip...

The Little Sister's Vacation
WINIFRED M. KIRKLAND IT WAS to be a glorious Chris...

The Spirit Of Christmas
From Pickwick Papers. CHARLES DICKENS And numerou...

Christmas Eve
HAMILTON WRIGHT MABIE [From My Study Fire.] The w...





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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