Christmas in Legend and Story | Page 6

heavenly King."

THE PEACEFUL NIGHT
JOHN MILTON
But peaceful was the night Wherein the Prince of Light His reign of
peace upon the earth began. The winds with wonder whist, Smoothly
the waters kist, Whispering new joys to the mild Ocean,-- Who now
hath quite forgot to rave, While birds of calm sit brooding on the
charmed wave.
The stars, with deep amaze, Stand fixed in steadfast gaze, Bending one
way their precious influence; And will not take their flight, For all the
morning light, Or Lucifer that often warned them thence; But in their
glimmering orbs did glow, Until their Lord himself bespake, and bid
them go.
And, though the shady gloom Had given day her room, The sun himself
withheld his wonted speed, And hid his head for shame, As his inferior
flame The new-enlightened world no more should need: He saw a
greater Sun appear Than his bright throne or burning axletree could

bear.

THE CHRISTMAS SILENCE
MARGARET DELAND
Hushed are the pigeons cooing low On dusty rafters of the loft; And
mild-eyed oxen, breathing soft, Sleep on the fragrant hay below.
Dim shadows in the corner hide; The glimmering lantern's rays are
shed Where one young lamb just lifts his head, Then huddles 'gainst his
mother's side.
Strange silence tingles in the air; Through the half-open door a bar Of
light from one low-hanging star Touches a baby's radiant hair.
No sound: the mother, kneeling, lays Her cheek against the little face.
Oh human love! Oh heavenly grace! 'Tis yet in silence that she prays!
Ages of silence end to-night; Then to the long-expectant earth Glad
angels come to greet His birth In burst of music, love, and light!

NEIGHBORS OF THE CHRIST NIGHT
NORA ARCHIBALD SMITH
Deep in the shelter of the cave, The ass with drooping head Stood
weary in the shadow, where His master's hand had led. About the
manger oxen lay, Bending a wide-eyed gaze Upon the little new-born
Babe, Half worship, half amaze. High in the roof the doves were set,
And cooed there, soft and mild, Yet not so sweet as, in the hay, The
Mother to her Child. The gentle cows breathed fragrant breath To keep
Babe Jesus warm, While loud and clear, o'er hill and dale, The cocks
crowed, "Christ is born!" Out in the fields, beneath the stars, The young
lambs sleeping lay, And dreamed that in the manger slept Another,
white as they.
These were Thy neighbors, Christmas Child; To Thee their love was
given, For in Thy baby face there shone The wonder-light of Heaven.

CHRISTMAS CAROL
FROM THE NEAPOLITAN
When Christ was born in Bethlehem, 'T was night, but seemed the noon
of day; The stars, whose light Was pure and bright, Shone with
unwavering ray; But one, one glorious star Guided the Eastern Magi

from afar.
Then peace was spread throughout the land; The lion fed beside the
tender lamb; And with the kid, To pasture led, The spotted leopard fed;
In peace, the calf and bear, The wolf and lamb reposed together there.
As shepherds watched their flocks by night, An angel, brighter than the
sun's own light, Appeared in air, And gently said, Fear not,--be not
afraid, For lo! beneath your eyes, Earth has become a smiling paradise.

A CHRISTMAS HYMN
RICHARD WATSON GILDER
Tell me what is this innumerable throng Singing in the heavens a loud
angelic song? These are they who come with swift and shining feet
From round about the throne of God the Lord of Light to greet.
Oh, who are these that hasten beneath the starry sky, As if with joyful
tidings that through the world shall fly? The faithful shepherds these,
who greatly were afeared When, as they watched their flocks by night,
the heavenly host appeared.
Who are these that follow across the hills of night A star that westward
hurries along the fields of light?
Three wise men from the east who myrrh and treasure bring To lay
them at the feet of him their Lord and Christ and King.
What babe new-born is this that in a manger cries? Near on her lowly
bed his happy mother lies. Oh, see the air is shaken with white and
heavenly wings-- This is the Lord of all the earth, this is the King of
kings.

THE SONG OF A SHEPHERD--BOY AT BETHLEHEM
JOSEPHINE PRESTON PEABODY
Sleep, Thou little Child of Mary: Rest Thee now. Though these hands
be rough from shearing And the plough,
Yet they shall not ever fail Thee, When the waiting nations hail Thee,
Bringing palms unto their King. Now--I sing.
Sleep, Thou little Child of Mary, Hope divine. If Thou wilt but smile
upon me, I will twine Blossoms for Thy garlanding. Thou'rt so little to