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The Trail Through The Forest
Two years had passed, to a day, almost to an hour, si...

Little Wolff's Wooden Shoes
A CHRISTMAS STORY BY FRANCOIS COPPEE; ADAPTED AND TRANS...

Christmas Bells
ANON There are sounds in the sky when the ye...

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

Master Sandy's Snapdragon
ELBRIDGE S. BROOKS THERE was just enough of Decemb...

Old Christmas Returned
All you that to feasting and mirth are inclined, ...

The History Of John Wildgoose
Thomas Wildgoose was an honest and hard-working man, in...





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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