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Mr. Stanley had just reached the last stile in the ...

The Mahogany-tree
WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY Christmas is her...

Christmas On Big Rattle
THEODORE GOODRIDGE ROBERTS ARCHER sat by the rude ...

The Smuggler
It was the latter end of the month of November, when ...

Christmas Waits In Boston
I. I always give myself a Christmas present. And o...

Old Father Christmas
J. H. EWING THE custom of Christmas-trees came fro...

While Shepherds Watched Their Flocks By Night
MARGARET DELAND Like small curled feathers, ...





When The Stars Of Morning Sang






ANNE P.L. FIELD

When the stars of morning sang
Long ago,
Sweet the air with music rang
Through the snow,
There beside the mother mild
Slept the blessed Christmas child,--
Slumber holy, undefiled--
Here below.

When the wise men traveled far
Through the night,
Following the guiding star
Pure and bright,
Lo! it stood above the place
Sanctified by Heaven's grace,
And upon the Christ-Child's face
Shed its light.

When the world lay hushed and still
Christmas morn,
Suddenly were skies athrill--
Christ is born!
Angel voices, high and clear,
Chanted tidings of good cheer,
See, the Infant King is here,
Christ is born!





Next: A Prayer At Bethlehem

Previous: The Night After Christmas



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