The Home Book of Verse
Chapter 48 : The Ox is host in Judah stall And Host of more than onelie one, For close she gathereth

The Ox is host in Judah stall And Host of more than onelie one, For close she gathereth withal Our Lorde her littel Sonne.

Glad Hinde and King Their Gyfte may bring, But wo'd to-night my Teares were there, Amen, Amen: Between her Bosom and His hayre!

Louise Imogen Guiney [1861-1920]

CHRISTMAS CAROL

As Joseph was a-waukin', He heard an angel sing, "This night shall be the birthnight Of Christ our heavenly King.

"His birth-bed shall be neither In housen nor in hall, Nor in the place of paradise, But in the oxen's stall.

"He neither shall be rocked In silver nor in gold, But in the wooden manger That lieth in the mould.

"He neither shall be washen With white wine nor with red, But with the fair spring water That on you shall be shed.

"He neither shall be clothed In purple nor in pall, But in the fair, white linen That usen babies all."

As Joseph was a-waukin', Thus did the angel sing, And Mary's son at midnight Was born to be our King.

Then be you glad, good people, At this time of the year; And light you up your candles, For His star it s.h.i.+neth clear.

Unknown

"BRIGHTEST AND BEST OF THE SONS OF THE MORNING"

Brightest and best of the Sons of the morning!

Dawn on our darkness and lend us thine aid!

Star of the East, the horizon adorning, Guide where our Infant Redeemer is laid!

Cold on His cradle the dewdrops are s.h.i.+ning, Low lies His head with the beasts of the stall; Angels adore Him in slumber reclining, Maker and Monarch and Saviour of all!

Say, shall we yield Him, in costly devotion, Odors of Edom and offerings divine?

Gems of the mountain and pearls of the ocean, Myrrh from the forest, or gold from the mine?

Vainly we offer each ample oblation; Vainly with gifts would His favor secure: Richer by far is the heart's adoration; Dearer to G.o.d are the prayers of the poor.

Brightest and best of the Sons of the morning!

Dawn on our darkness and lend us thine aid!

Star of the East, the horizon adorning, Guide where our Infant Redeemer is laid!

Reginald Heber [1783-1826]

CHRISTMAS BELLS

I heard the bells on Christmas Day Their old, familiar carols play, And wild and sweet The words repeat Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

And thought how, as the day had come, The belfries of all Christendom Had rolled along The unbroken song Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

Till, ringing, singing on its way, The world revolved from night to day, A voice, a chime, A chant sublime Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

Then from each black, accursed mouth The cannon thundered in the South, And with the sound The carols drowned Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

It was as if an earthquake rent The hearth-stones of a continent, And made forlorn The households born Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

And in despair I bowed my head; "There is no peace on earth," I said, "For hate is strong, And mocks the song Of peace on earth, good-will to men!"

Then pealed the bells more loud and deep: "G.o.d is not dead, nor doth He sleep!

The Wrong shall fail, The Right prevail, With peace on earth, good-will to men!"

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow [1807-1882]

A CHRISTMAS CAROL

The Christ-child lay on Mary's lap, His hair was like a light.

(O weary, weary were the world, But here is all aright.)

The Christ-child lay on Mary's breast, His hair was like a star.

(O stern and cunning are the kings, But here the true hearts are.)

The Christ-child lay on Mary's heart, His hair was like a fire.

(O weary, weary is the world, But here the world's desire.)

The Christ-child stood at Mary's knee, His hair was like a crown, And all the flowers looked up at Him, And all the stars looked down.

Gilbert Keith Chesterton [1874-1936]

THE HOUSE OF CHRISTMAS

There fared a mother driven forth Out of an inn to roam; In the place where she was homeless All men are at home.

The crazy stable close at hand, With shaking timber and s.h.i.+fting sand, Grew a stronger thing to abide and stand Than the square stones of Rome.

For men are homesick in their homes, And strangers under the sun, And they lay their heads in a foreign land Whenever the day is done.

Here we have battle and blazing eyes, And chance and honor and high surprise, But our homes are under miraculous skies Where the yule tale was begun.

A Child in a foul stable, Where the beasts feed and foam, Only where He was homeless Are you and I at home; We have hands that fas.h.i.+on and heads that know, But our hearts we lost--how long ago!