They followed the star the whole night through;
  As it moved with the midnight, they moved, too;
  And cared not whither it led, nor knew,
    Till Christmas day in the morning.

  We have followed the star a whole long year,
  And watched it beckon, now faint, now clear,
  And now it stands still as we draw near
    To Christmas day in the morning.

  And just as the wise men did of old,
  In the hush of the winter's dawning, cold,
  We come to the stable, and we behold
    The Child on the Christmas morning.

  And just as the wise men deemed it meet
  To offer Him gold and perfumes sweet,
  We would lay our gifts at His holy feet,
    Our gifts on Christmas morning.

  O Babe, once laid in the oxen's bed,
  With never a pillow for Thy head,
  Now throned in the highest heaven instead,
    O Lord of the Christmas morning!

  Because we have known and have loved Thy star
  And have followed it long and have followed it far
  From the land where the shadows and darkness are
    To find Thee on Christmas morning,--

  Accept the gifts we dare to bring,
  Though worthless and poor the offering,
  And help our souls to rise and sing
    On Christmas day in the morning.

  "All my heart this night rejoices
    As I hear, far and near,
  Sweetest angel voices:
    'Christ is born!' their choirs are singing,
  Till the air everywhere
    Now with joy is ringing."

  What sweeter music can we bring,
  Than a carol for to sing
  The birth of this our heavenly King?
  Awake the voice! A wake the string!
  Heart, ear, and eye, and everything
  Awake! the while the active finger
  Runs divisions with the singer.

  Dark and dull night, fly hence away,
  And give the honor to this day,
  That sees December turned to May.
  If we may ask the reason, say
  The why, and wherefore all things here
  Seem like the springtime of the year?

  Why does the chilling winter's morn
  Smile like a field beset with corn?
  Or smell like to a mead new shorn,
  Thus on the sudden? Come and see
  The cause why things thus fragrant be:
  'Tis He is born, whose quickening birth
  Gives light and luster, public mirth,
  To heaven and the under earth.

  As with gladness men of old
  Did the guiding star behold,
  As with joy they hailed its light,
  Leading onward, beaming bright;
  So, most gracious Lord, may we
  Evermore be led by Thee.

  As with joyful steps they sped
  To that lowly manger bed,
  There to bend the knee before
  Him whom heaven and earth adore;
  So may we with willing feet
  Ever seek the mercy seat.

  As they offered gifts most rare
  At that manger rude and bare;
  So may we with holy joy,
  Pure and free from sin's alloy,
  All our costliest treasures bring,
  Christ, to Thee, our heavenly King.

  "We sate among the stalls at Bethlehem;
  The dumb kine from their fodder turning there,
  Softened their horned faces
  To almost human gazes
  Toward the newly born.
  The simple shepherds from the starlit brooks
  Brought visionary looks,
  As yet in their astonied hearing, rung
  The strange, sweet angel tongue;
  The Magi from the East in sandals worn
  Knelt reverent, sweeping round
  With long pale beards, their gifts upon the ground,
  The incense, myrrh, and gold,
  These baby hands are impotent to hold;
  So let all earthlies and celestials wait
  Upon thy royal state:
  Sleep, O my kingly One!"

  God rest ye, merry gentlemen; let nothing you dismay,
  For Jesus Christ, our Saviour, was born on Christmas day.
  The dawn rose red o'er Bethlehem, the stars shone through the gray,
  When Jesus Christ, our Saviour, was born on Christmas day.

  God rest ye, little children; let nothing you affright,
  For Jesus Christ, your Saviour, was born this happy night;
  Along the hills of Galilee the white flocks sleeping lay,
  When Christ, the child of Nazareth, was born on Christmas day.

  God rest ye, all good Christians; upon this blessed morn,
  The Lord of all good Christians was of a woman born:
  Now all your sorrows He doth heal, your sins He takes away;
  For Jesus Christ, our Saviour, was born on Christmas day.

  Hail the night! All hail the morn!
  When the Prince of Peace was born;
  When, amid the watchful fold,
  Tidings good the angel told.

  Now our solemn chant we raise
  Duly to the Saviour's praise;
  Now with carol hymns we bless
  Christ the Lord, our Righteousness.

  While resounds the joyful cry,
  "Glory be to God on high,
  Peace on earth, good-will to men!"
  Gladly we respond "amen!"

  "Some say that ever 'gainst that season comes,
  Wherein our Saviour's birth is celebrated,
  The bird of dawning singeth all night long;
  And then, they say, no spirit can walk abroad;
  The nights are wholesome; then no planets strike;
  No fairy takes, nor witch hath power to charm;
  So hallowed and so gracious is the time."

  There's a wonderful tree, a wonderful tree,
  The happy children rejoice to see,
  Spreading its branches year by year,
  It comes from the forest to flourish here;
  Oh! this beautiful tree, with its branches wide,
  Is always blooming at Christmas-tide.

  'T is not alone in the summer's sheen
  Its boughs are broad and its leaves are green,
  It blooms for us when the wild winds blow,
  And earth is white with feathery snow:
  And this wonderful tree with its branches wide,
  Bears many a gift for the Christmas-tide.

  'T is all alight with its tapers' glow,
  That flash on the shining eyes below,
  And the strange sweet fruit on each laden bough
  Is all to be plucked by the gatherers now.
  Oh! this wonderful tree, with its branches wide,
  We hail it with joy at the Christmas-tide.

  And a voice is telling, its boughs among,
  Of the shepherds' watch and angels' song;
  Of a holy babe in a manger low,
  The beautiful story of long ago,
  When a radiant star threw its beams so wide
  To herald the earliest Christmas-tide.

  Then spread thy branches, wonderful tree,
  And bring some dainty gift to me,
  And fill my heart with a burning love
  To Him who came from His home above--
  From His beautiful home with the glorified,
  To give us the joys of the Christmas-tide.

  It chanced upon the merry, merry Christmas eve
    I went sighing past the church, across the moorland dreary,--
  "Oh! never sin and want and woe this earth will leave,
    And the bells but mock the wailing round, they sing so cheery.
  How long, O Lord, how long, before Thou come again?
    Still in cellar, and in garret, and on moorland dreary,
  The orphans moan, and widows weep, and poor men toil in vain,
    Till the earth is sick of hope deferred, though Christmas bells be cheery."

  Then arose a joyous clamor from the wild fowl on the mere,
    Beneath the stars, across the snow, like clear bells ringing,
  And a voice within cried, "Listen! Christmas carols even here!
    Though thou be dumb, yet o'er their work the stars and snows are singing.
  Blind! I live, I love, I reign; and all the nations through
    With the thunder of my judgments even now are ringing;
  Do thou fulfill thy work, but as yon wild fowl do,
    Thou wilt heed no less the wailing yet hear through it angels singing."

  "Ah, dearest Jesus, holy Child,
  Make Thee a bed, soft, undefiled,
  Within my heart that it may be,
  A quiet chamber kept for Thee.

  "My heart for very joy doth leap,
  My lips no more can silence keep;
  I, too, must sing with joyful tongue
  That sweetest ancient cradle song."

  While shepherds watched their flocks by night,
    All seated on the ground,
  The angel of the Lord came down;
    And glory shone around.

  "Fear not," said he, for mighty dread
    Had seized their troubled minds;
  "Glad tidings of great joy I bring
    To you and all mankind.

  "To you, in David's town, this day,
    Is born of David's line,
  The Saviour, who is Christ the Lord;
    And this shall be the sign:

  "The heavenly babe you there shall find
    To human view displayed,
  All meanly wrapped in swathing bands
    And in a manger laid."

  Thus spoke the seraph, and forthwith
    Appeared a shining throng
  Of angels, praising God, and thus
    Addressed their joyful song:

  "All glory be to God on high,
    And to the earth be peace;
  Good-will henceforth from heaven to men
    Begin, and never cease."

  Carol, sweetly carol,
    A Saviour born to-day;
  Bear the joyful tidings,
    Oh, bear them far away!
  Carol, sweetly carol,
    Till earth's remotest bound
  Shall hear the mighty chorus,
    And echo back the sound.


CHORUS.

  Carol, sweetly carol,
    Carol sweetly to-day;
  Bear the joyful tidings,
    Oh, bear them far away.


  Carol, sweetly carol,
    As when the angel throng,
  O'er the vales of Judah,
    Awoke the heavenly song:
  Carol, sweetly carol,
    Good will, and peace, and love,
  Glory in the highest
    To God who reigns above.

  Carol, sweetly carol,
    The happy Christmas time:
  Hark! the bells are pealing
    Their merry, merry chime:
  Carol, sweetly carol,
    Ye shining ones above,
  Sing in loudest numbers,
    Oh, sing redeeming love!

  "'What means this glory round our feet,'
    The Magi mused, 'more bright than morn?'
  And voices chanted, clear and sweet,
    'To-day the Prince of Peace is born.'"

  Away in a manger, no crib for a bed,
  The little Lord Jesus laid down His head.
  The stars in the bright sky looked down where He lay--
  The little Lord Jesus asleep on the hay.

  The cattle are lowing, the baby awakes,
  But little Lord Jesus, no crying He makes.
  I love Thee, Lord Jesus, look down from the sky,
  And stay by my cradle till morning is nigh.

  Hush, my dear, lie still and slumber;
    Holy angels guard thy bed;
  Heav'nly blessings without number
    Gently falling on thy head.

  Sleep, my babe, thy food and raiment,
    House and home, thy friends provide;
  All without thy care or payment,
    All thy wants are well supplied.

  How much better thou'rt attended
    Than the Son of God could be,
  When from heaven he descended,
    And became a child like thee.

  Soft and easy is thy cradle;
    Coarse and hard thy Saviour lay,
  When his birthplace was a stable,
    And his softest bed was hay.

  We see Him come, and know Him ours,
  Who, with His sunshine and His showers,
  Turns all the patient ground to flowers.

  The Darling of the world is come,
  And fit it is we find a room
  To welcome Him. The nobler part
  Of all the house here, is the heart,

  Which we will give Him; and bequeath
  This holly, and this ivy wreath,
  To do Him honor, who's our King,
  And Lord of all this reveling.

  "O come, all ye faithful, joyfully triumphant,
    To Bethlehem hasten now with glad accord,
  Lo! in a manger lies the King of angels;
    O come, let us adore Him, Christ the Lord"

  Once in royal David's city,
    Stood a lowly cattle shed,
  Where a mother hid her baby
    In a manger for his bed;
  Mary was that mother mild,
  Jesus Christ her little child.

  He came down to earth from heaven,
    Who is God and Lord of all,
  And His shelter was a stable,
    And His cradle was a stall:
  With the poor, and mean, and lowly,
  Lived on earth our Saviour holy.

  And thro' all His wondrous childhood,
    He would honor and obey,
  Love and watch the lowly maiden
    In whose gentle arms He lay;
  Christian children all must be
  Mild, obedient, good as He.

  For He is our childhood's pattern,
    Day by day like us He grew,
  He was little, weak and helpless,
    Tears and smiles like us He knew:
  And He feeleth for our sadness,
  And He shareth in our gladness.

  And our eyes at last shall see Him,
    Through His own redeeming love,
  For that Child so dear and gentle
    Is our Lord in heaven above:       {416}  And He leads His children on
  To the place where He is gone.

  Not in that poor lowly stable,
    With the oxen standing by,
  We shall see Him; but in heaven,
    Set at God's right hand on high;
  When like stars His children crowned
  All in white shall wait around.

  "Thou didst leave Thy throne and Thy kingly crown
    When Thou camest to earth for me;
  But in Bethlehem's home there was found no room
    For Thy holy nativity.
  O come to my heart, Lord Jesus,
    There is room in my heart for Thee."

  Calm on the listening ear of night
    Come heaven's melodious strains,
  Where wild Judea stretches far
    Her silver-mantled plains;
  Celestial choirs from courts above
    Shed sacred glories there;
  And angels with their sparkling lyres
    Make music on the air.

  The answering hills of Palestine
    Send back the glad reply,
  And greet from all their holy heights
    The Dayspring from on high.
  O'er the blue depths of Galilee
    There comes a holier calm;
  And Sharon waves in solemn praise,
    Her silent groves of palm.

  "Glory to God!" the lofty strain
    The realm of ether fills;
  How sweeps the song of solemn joy
    O'er Judah's sacred hills.
  "Glory to God!" the sounding skies
    Loud with their anthems ring:
  "Peace on the earth; good will to men,
    From heaven's eternal King."

  Light on thy hills, Jerusalem!
    The Saviour now is born!
  More bright on Bethlehem's joyous plains
    Breaks the first Christmas morn;         {420}  And brighter on Moriah's brow,
    Crowned with her temple-spires,
  Which first proclaim the newborn light,
    Clothed with its orient fires.

  This day shall Christian tongues be mute,
    And Christian hearts be cold?
  O catch the anthem that from heaven
    O'er Judah's mountains rolled!
  When nightly burst from seraph-harps
    The high and solemn lay,--
  "Glory to God; on earth be peace;
    Salvation comes to-day!"

  Hark! the clock strikes from the steeple;
  Now good-night to all good people;
  Bed is ready to receive us;
  Yet you say, "Oh, do not leave us!"
  Thank you, friends, but we must hurry,
  Else our dear old nurse will worry.

  Good-bye, father; good-bye, mother;
  Come now, baby; come now, brother:
  By your sisters three attended,
  All must go, for play is ended.--
  Early go, if wise and wealthy
  We would be, and also healthy.

  So good-night to all good people!
  Hark! from yet another steeple,
  One, two, three, four, five, six, seven:
  Now to bed, and bless you, Heaven.
  Good advice comes from the steeple:
  So good-night to all good people!

  Baby's in the boat,
    Rocking to and fro;
  Tautest craft afloat,--
    Baby's watch below.

  Snowy sails are set:
    Little lullabies,
  Hush the pretty pet,
    Close the laughing eyes.

  Storms can never harm;
    Mother watches near:
  Oh! her loving arm
    Knows the way to steer.

  Quiet now, at last,
    Till the morning beams;
  Baby's anchored fast
    In the port of dreams.

  "Angels from the realms of glory,
    Wing your flight o'er all the earth,
  Ye who sang creation's story,
    Now proclaim Messiah's birth;
      Come and worship,
  Worship Christ, the newborn King."

  What says the little brook?
    "I am but a little brook;
      Yet on me
    The stars as brightly gleam
    As on the mighty stream;
    I sparkle on my way
      To the sea."

  What says the little ray?
    "I am but a little ray,
      Sent to earth
    By the sun so great and bright,
    Giving food and heat and light;
    Yet I gladden every spot
    The palace and the cot
      Hail my birth."

  What says the little flower?
    "I am but a little flower
      At your feet;
    Yet on the path you tread,
    Some joy and grace I shed;
    So I am happy too
    For the little I can do
      When we meet."

  What says the little lamb?
    "I am but a little lamb
      Soft and mild;
    Yet in the meadows sweet
    I ramble and I bleat;       {428}    And soon my wool will grow,
    To clothe you with, you know,
      Darling child."

  What says the little bird?
    "I am but a little bird
      With my song;
    Come, hear me singing now,
    As I hop from bough to bough;
    For I cheer the old and sad
    With my voice, and I am glad
      All day long,"

  What says the little child?
    "I am but a little child
      Fond of play;
    Yet in my heart, I know
    The grace of God will grow,
    If I try to do His will,
    And His law of love fulfill,
      And obey."

  The twilight falls, the night is near.
    I fold my work away,
  And kneel to One who bends to hear
    The story of the day.

  The old, old story; yet I kneel
    To tell it at Thy call,
  And cares grow lighter as I feel
    That Jesus knows them all.

  Thou knowest all: I lean my head;
    My weary eyelids close;
  Content and glad awhile to tread
    This path, since Jesus knows.

  And He has loved me: all my heart
    With answering love is stirred,
  And every anguished pain and smart
    Finds healing in the word.

  So here I lay me down to rest,
    As nightly shadows fall,
  And lean confiding on His breast
    Who knows and pities all.

  Saviour, breathe an evening blessing
    Ere repose our spirits seal;
  Sin and want we come confessing,
    Thou canst bless, and Thou canst heal.

  Though destruction walk around us,
    Though the arrow past us fly,
  Angel-guards from Thee surround us,
    We are safe if Thou art nigh.

  Though the night be dark and dreary,
    Darkness cannot hide from Thee;
  Thou art He who, never weary,
    Watchest where Thy people be.

  The mountain streams are silent,
    Or whisper faint and low;
  The earth is grateful to the dews
  For moisture which the clouds refuse;
    Blow, west wind, blow!
   And fall, O gentle rain!
  Awake the music of the bowers,
  Unfold the beauty of the flowers;
  The cornfields long to hear thy voice,
  And woods and orchards will rejoice
    To see thee, gentle rain!

  It comes! The gushing wealth descends!
    Hark! how it patters on the leaves!
    Hark! how it drops from cottage eaves!
  The pastures and the clouds are friends.
    Drop gently, gentle rain!
  The fainting cornstalk lifts its head,
  The grass grows greener at thy tread,
    The woods are musical again;
  And from the hillside springing,
  Down comes the torrent singing,
  With grateful nature in accord,
  A full-voiced anthem to the Lord,
    To thank Him for the rain.

  The spacious firmament on high,
  With all the blue ethereal sky,
  And spangled heavens, a shining frame,
  Their great Original proclaim.
  Th' unwearied sun, from day to day,
  Does his Creator's power display,
  And publishes to every land
  The work of an almighty hand.

  Soon as the evening shades prevail
  The moon takes up the wondrous tale,
  And nightly to the listening earth
  Repeats the story of her birth;
  Whilst all the stars that round her burn,
  And all the planets in their turn,
  Confirm the tidings as they roll,
  And spread the truth from pole to pole.

  What though in solemn silence all
  Move round the dark terrestrial ball?
  What though nor real voice nor sound
  Amidst the radiant orbs be found?
  In reason's ear they all rejoice,
  And utter forth a glorious voice,
  Forever singing as they shine,
  "The hand that made us is divine."

  The twilight is sad and cloudy,
    The wind blows wild and free,
  And like the wings of sea-birds
    Flash the white caps of the sea.

  But in the fisherman's cottage
    There shines a sudden light;
  And a little face at the window
    Peers out into the night.

  Close, close it is pressed to the window,
    As if those childish eyes
  Were looking into the darkness
    To see some form arise.

  And a woman's waving shadow
    Is passing to and fro,
  Now rising to the ceiling,
    Now bowing and bending low.

  What tale do the roaring ocean,
    And the night wind, bleak and wild,
  As they beat at the crazy casement,
    Tell to that little child?

  And why do the roaring ocean,
    And the night wind, wild and bleak,
  As they beat at the heart of the mother,
    Drive the color from her cheek?

  "I am a Pebble and yield to none!"
  Were the swelling words of a tiny stone;
  "Nor change nor season can alter me:
  I am abiding while ages flee.
  The pelting hail and the drizzling rain
  Have tried to soften me long in vain;
  And the tender dew has sought to melt
  Or to touch my heart,--but it was not felt.

  "None can tell of the Pebble's birth;
  For I am as old as the solid earth.
  The children of men arise and pass
  Out of the world like blades of grass;
  And many a foot on me has trod
  That's gone from sight and under the sod!
  I am a Pebble! but who art thou,
  Rattling along from the restless bough?"

  The Acorn was shocked at this rude salute,
  And lay for a moment abashed and mute;
  And she felt for a while perplexed to know
  How to answer a thing so low.
  But to give reproof of nobler sort
  Than the angry look or the keen retort,
  At length she said, in a gentle tone,
  "Since it has happened that I am thrown

  "From the lighter element, where I grew,
  Down to another so hard and new,             {439}  And beside a personage so august,
  Abashed I will cover my head with dust,
  And quickly retire from the sight of one
  Whom time nor season, nor storm nor sun,
  Nor the gentler dew, nor the grinding wheel,
  Has ever subdued or made to feel."

  And soon in the earth she sunk away
  From the comfortless spot where the Pebble lay;
  But it was not long ere the soil was broke
  By the peering head of an ancient oak;
  And as it arose, and its branches spread,
  The Pebble looked up, and, wondering, said,--
  "A modest acorn never to tell
  What was enclosed in her simple shell--

  "That the pride of the forest was thus shut up
  Within the space of her little cup!
  And meekly to sink in the darksome earth
  To prove that nothing could hide her worth.
  And, O, how many will tread on me
  To come and admire that beautiful tree,
  Whose head is towering toward the sky,
  Above such a worthless thing as I!

  "Useless and vain, a cumberer here,
  I have been idling from year to year;
  But never from this shall a vaunting word
  From the humble Pebble again be heard,
  Till something without me, or within,
  Can show the purpose for which I've been!"
  The Pebble could not its vow forget
  And it lies there wrapped in silence yet.

  Tell me not, in mournful numbers,
    Life is but an empty dream!
  For the soul is dead that slumbers,
    And things are not what they seem.

  Life is real! Life is earnest!
    And the grave is not its goal;
  "Dust thou art, to dust returnest,"
    Was not spoken of the soul.

  Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,
    Is our destined end or way;
  But to act, that each to-morrow
    Find us farther than to-day.

  Art is long and Time is fleeting,
    And our hearts, though stout and brave,
  Still, like muffled drums, are beating
    Funeral marches to the grave.

  In the world's broad field of battle,
    In the bivouac of Life,
  Be not like dumb, driven cattle!
    Be a hero in the strife!

  Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant!
    Let the dead Past bury its dead!
  Act,--act in the living Present!
    Heart within, and God o'erhead!    {441}
  Lives of great men all remind us
    We can make our lives sublime,
  And, departing, leave behind us
    Footprints on the sands of time;--

  Footprints, that perhaps another,
    Sailing o'er life's solemn main,
  A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,
    Seeing, shall take heart again.

  Let us, then, be up and doing,
    With a heart for any fate;
  Still achieving, still pursuing,
    Learn to labor and to wait.

  While Thee I seek, protecting Power,
    Be my vain wishes stilled;
  And may this consecrated hour
    With better hopes be filled.
  Thy love the power of thought bestowed,
    To Thee my thoughts would soar,
  Thy mercy o'er my life has flowed,
    That mercy I adore.

  In each event of life, how clear
    Thy ruling hand I see;
  Each blessing to my soul more dear,
    Because conferred by Thee.
  In every joy that crowns my days,
    In every pain I bear,
  My heart shall find delight in praise,
    Or seek relief in prayer.

  When gladness wings my favored hour,
    Thy love my thoughts shall fill;
  Resigned, when storms of sorrow lower,
    My soul shall meet Thy will.
  My lifted eye, without a tear,
    The lowering storm shall see;
  My steadfast heart shall know no fear,
    That heart will rest on Thee.