Christmas Sunshine | Page 2

of the skies;
Universal nature say,

Christ the Lord is born to-day.
Christ, by highest heaven adored;
Christ, the everlasting Lord;
Late
in time behold Him come,
Offspring of a Virgin's womb;
Veil'd in
flesh and Godhead see;
Hail, th' Incarnate Deity!
Pleased as man
with men t' appear,
Jesus, our Immanuel here!
Hail! the heavenly Prince of Peace!
Hail! the Sun of Righteousness!

Light and life to all He brings,
Risen with healing in His wings.

Mild He lays His glory by,
Born that man no more may die,
Born to
raise the sons of earth,
Born to give them second birth.
_Charles Wesley._
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.
_Dinah Maria Mulock._

[Illustration]
There are many things from which I might have derived good, by
which I have not profited, I dare say, Christmas among the rest. But I
am sure I have always thought of Christmas time, when it has come
round--apart from the veneration due to its sacred name and origin, if
anything belonging to it can be apart from that--as a good time; a kind,
forgiving, charitable, pleasant time; the only time I know of, in the long
calendar of the year, when men and women seem by one consent to
open their shut-up hearts freely, and to think of people below them as if
they really were fellow-passengers to the grave, and not another race of
creatures bound on other journeys. And therefore, though it has never
put a scrap of gold or silver in my pocket, I believe that it _has_ done
me good, and _will_ do me good; and I say, God bless it!
_From "A Christmas Carol."
Charles Dickens._
[Illustration]
Hark, the glad sound! the Saviour comes,
The Saviour promised long;

Let every heart prepare a throne,
And every voice a song!
He comes, the prisoners to release
In Satan's bondage held;
The
gates of brass before Him burst,
The iron fetters yield.
He comes, the broken heart to bind,
The bleeding soul to cure,
And
with the treasure of His grace
T' enrich the humble poor.
Our glad Hosannas, Prince of Peace,
Thy welcome shall proclaim,

And heaven's eternal arches ring
With thy beloved name.
_Philip Doddridge._
Christ is come to be my Friend,
Leading, loving to the end;
Christ
is come to be my King,
Ordering, ruling everything.
Christ is come!
Enough for me,
Lonely though the pathway be.

_F. R. Havergal._
Ye who have scorn'd each other
Or injured friend or brother,
In this
fast fading year;
Ye who, by word or deed,
Hath made a kind heart
bleed,
Come gather here.
Let sinn'd against and sinning,
Forget
their strife's beginning;
Be links no longer broken,
Be sweet
forgiveness spoken,
Under the holly bough.
Ye who have lov'd each other,
Sister and friend and brother,
In this
fast fading year:
Mother, and sire, and child,
Young man and
maiden mild,
Come gather here;
And let your hearts grow fonder,

As memory shall ponder
Each past unbroken vow.
Old loves and
younger wooing,
Are sweet in the renewing,
Under the holly
bough.
Ye who have nourished sadness,
Estranged from hope and gladness,

In this fast fading year.
Ye with o'er-burdened mind
Made aliens
from your kind,
Come gather here.
Let not the useless sorrow
Pursue you night and morrow,
If e'er you
hoped--hope now--
Take heart: uncloud your faces,
And join in our
embraces
Under the holly bough.
_Charles Mackay, LL. D._
[Illustration]
Come all you weary wanderers
Beneath the wintry sky,
This day
forget your worldly cares,
And lay your sorrows by:
Awake and sing
The church bells ring,
For this is Christmas
morning!
With grateful hearts salute the morn,
And swell the streams of song,

That laden with great joy are borne,
The willing air along;

The tidings thrill
With right good will,
For this is Christmas
morning!
We'll twine the fresh green holly wreath,
And make the yule-log glow;

And gather gaily underneath
The winking mistletoe;
All blythe and bright
By the glad fire light,
For this is Christmas
morning!
Come, sing the carols old and true,
That mind us of good cheer,

And like a heavenly fall of dew,
Revive the drooping year,
And fill us up
A wassail cup,
For this is Christmas morning!
In the rush of the merry morning
When the red burns through the
gray,
And the wintry world lies waiting
For the glory of the day;

Then we hear a fitful rushing
Just without upon the stair,
See two
white phantoms coming,
Catch the gleam of sunny hair.
Are they Christmas fairies stealing
Rows of little socks to fill?
Are
they angels floating hither
With their message of good-will?
What
sweet spell are these elves weaving,
As like larks they chirp and sing?

Are