Chapter XVI: Preface (5)

Whatever brawls disturb the street,
There should be peace at home;
Where sisters dwell and brothers meet,
Quarrels should never come.

Birds in their little nests agree,
And 't is a shameful sight,
When children of one family
Fall out, and chide, and fight.

Hard names at first, and threatening words
That are but noisy breath,
May grow to clubs and naked swords,
To murder and to death.

The devil tempts one mother's son
To rage against another;
So wicked Cain was hurried on
Till he had killed his brother.

The wise will make their anger cool,
At least before 't is night;
But in the bosom of a fool
It burns till morning light.

Pardon, O Lord, our childish rage,
Our little brawls remove;
That, as we grow to riper age,
Our hearts may all be love.
--_Isaac Watts_.

{346}

A SUMMER EVENING

How fine has the day been! How bright was the sun!
How lovely and joyful the course that he run;
Though he rose in a mist when his race he begun,
And there follow'd some droppings of rain:
But now the fair traveler's come to the West,
His rays are all gold, and his beauties are best;
He paints the skies gay as he sinks to his rest,
And foretells a bright rising again.

Just such is the Christian. His course he begins,
Like the sun in the mist, when he mourns for his sins,
And melts into tears; then he breaks out and shines,
And travels his heavenly way:
But when he comes nearer to finish his race
Like a fine setting sun, he looks richer in grace,
And gives a sure hope, at the end of his days,
Of rising in brighter array.
--_Isaac Watts_.

{347}{348}

THE PITTI MADONNA
By Murillo (1618-1682)

"The Pitti Madonna is one of this sweet company, and perhaps the
loveliest of them all. Both she and her beautiful boy are full of
gentle earnestness, and if they are too simple-minded to realize
what is in store for them, they are none the less ready to do the
Father's will."--_Hurll_
[End illustration]

{349}

SUMMER

The heats of Summer come hastily on,
The fruits are transparent and clear;
The buds and the blossoms of April are gone,
And the deep colored cherries appear.

The blue sky above us is bright and serene,
No cloud on its bosom remains;
The woods and the fields and the hedges are green,
And the haycock smells sweet from the plains.

But, hark! from the woodlands what sound do I hear?
The voices of pleasure so gay;
The merry young haymakers cheerfully bear
The heat of the hot summer's day.

While some with bright scythe, singing shrill to the tone,
The tall grass and buttercups mow,
Some spread it with rakes, and by others 't is thrown
Into sweet smelling cocks in a row.

Then since joy and glee with activity join,
This moment to labor I'll rise;
While the idle love best in the shade to recline,
And waste precious time as it flies.
--_Jane Taylor_,

{350}

Music for "The Star"
[End illustration]

{351}

THE STAR

Twinkle, twinkle, little star
How I wonder what you are!
Up above the world so high,
Like a diamond in the sky.

When the blazing sun is gone,
When he nothing shines upon,
Then you show your little light,
Twinkle, twinkle, all the night.

Then the traveler in the dark
Thanks you for your tiny spark.
He could not see which way to go,
If you did not twinkle so.

In the dark blue sky you keep,
And often through my curtains peep;
For you never shut your eye
Till the sun is in the sky.

As your bright and tiny spark
Lights the traveler in the dark,
Though I know not what you are,
Twinkle, twinkle, little star.
--_Jane Taylor_.

{352}

THE FLOWER AND THE LADY, ABOUT GETTING UP

Pretty flower, tell me why
All your leaves do open wide,
Every morning, when on high
The noble sun begins to ride.

This is why, my lady fair,
If you would the reason know,
For betimes the pleasant air
Very cheerfully doth blow.

And the birds on every tree
Sing a merry, merry tune,
And the busy honey bee
Comes to suck my sugar soon.

This is, then, the reason why
I my little leaves undo.
Little lady, wake and try
If I have not told you true.
--_Jane Taylor_.

{353}

THE FIELD DAISY

I'm a pretty little thing,
Always coming with the spring.
In the meadows green I'm found,
Peeping just above the ground;
And my stalk is covered flat
With a white and yellow hat.

Little Mary, when you pass
Lightly o'er the tender grass,
Skip about, but do not tread
On my bright but lowly head;
For I always seem to say,
"Surely winter's gone away."
--_Jane Taylor_.

{354}

THE LITTLE CHILD

I'm a very little child,
Only just have learned to speak;
So I should be very mild,
Very tractable and meek.

If my dear mamma were gone,
Oh, I think that I should die,
When she left me all alone,
Such a little thing as I.

Now what service can I do,
To repay her for her care?
For I cannot even sew,
Nor make anything I wear.

Well, then, I will always try
To be very good and mild;
Never now be cross or cry,
Like a fretful little child.

How unkind it is to fret,
And my dear mamma to tease,
When my lesson I should get,
Sitting still upon her knees!

Oh, how can I serve her so,
Such a good mamma as this?
Round her neck my arms I'll throw,
And her gentle cheek I'll kiss.

Then I'll tell her that I will
Try not any more to fret her,
And as I grow older still,
Try to show I love her better.
--_Jane Taylor_.

{355}{356}

THE "GRANDUCA MADONNA"
By Raphael

"Around the mighty master came
The marvels which his pencil wrought,
Those miracles of power, whose fame
Is wide as human thought.

"There drooped thy more than mortal face,
O Mother, beautiful and mild!
Enfolding in one dear embrace
Thy Saviour and thy Child!"
--_John Greenleaf Whittier_
[End illustration]

{357}

GOING TO BED

The moon is up, the sun is gone,
Now nothing here he shines upon;
The pretty birds are in their nest,
The cows are lying down to rest,
Or wait, beneath the farmer's shed,
To hear the merry milkmaid's tread.

The pleasant flowers that opened wide,
And smelt so sweet at morning-tide,
Fold up their leaves, as if to say,
"Good-by, we'll come another day;
And now, dear little lady, you
Must sleep, as we shall seem to do."

Yes,--here's my pretty bed, and I
Will kiss mamma, and say "by, by!"
So nice and warm, so smooth and white,
So comfortable all the night!
And when my little prayer is said,
How could I cry to go to bed?
--_Jane Taylor_.

{358}

TIME TO GET UP

The cock, who soundly sleeps at night,
Rises with the morning light;
Very loud and shrill he crows;
Then the sleeping ploughman knows
He must rise and hasten, too,
All his morning work to do.

And the little lark does fly
To the middle of the sky.
You may hear his merry tune,
In the morning very soon;
For he does not like to rest
Idly in his downy nest.

While the cock is crowing shrill,
Leave my little bed I will,
And I'll rise to hear the lark,
Now it is no longer dark.
'T would be a pity there to stay,
When 't is bright and pleasant day.
--_Jane Taylor_.

{359}

THE SNOWDROP

Now the spring is coming on,
Now the snow and ice are gone,
Come, my little snowdrop root,
Will you not begin to shoot?

Ah! I see your pretty head
Peeping on the flower bed,
Looking all so green and gay
On this fine and pleasant day.

For the mild south wind doth blow,
And hath melted all the snow,
And the sun shines out so warm,
You need not fear another storm.

So come up, you pretty thing,
Just to tell us it is spring,
Hanging down your modest head
On my pleasant flower bed.
--_Jane Taylor_.

{360}

Music for "Getting Up"
[End illustration]

{361}

GETTING UP

Now, my baby, ope your eye,
For the sun is in the sky,
And he's peeping once again
Through the frosty windowpane.
Little baby, do not keep
Any longer fast asleep.

There now, sit in mother's lap,
That she may untie your cap;
For the little strings have got
Twisted into such a knot.
Yes, you know you've been at play
With the bobbin as your lay.

There it comes, now let us see
Where your petticoats can be;
Oh, they're in the window seat,
Folded very smooth and neat;
When my baby older grows
She shall double up her clothes.

Now one pretty little kiss,
For dressing you so nice as this.
But before we go downstairs,
Don't forget to say your prayers,
For 't is God who loves to keep
Little babies fast asleep.
--_Jane Taylor_.

{362}

A FINE THING

Who am I with noble face,
Shining in a clear blue place?
If to look at me you try,
I shall blind your little eye.

When my noble face I show,
Over yonder mountain blue,
All the clouds away do ride,
And the dusky night beside.

Then the clear wet dews I dry
With the look of my bright eye;
And the little birds awake,
Many a merry tune to make.

Cowslips, then, and harebells blue,
And lily-cups their leaves undo;
For they shut themselves up tight,
All the dark and foggy night.

Then the busy people go,
Some to plow, and some to sow;
When I leave, their work is done,
Guess if I am not the Sun.
--_Jane Taylor_.

{363}{364}

MADONNA AND CHILD
By Georg Papperitz
[End illustration]

{365}

A PRETTY THING

Who am I that shines so bright
With my pretty yellow light,
Peeping through your curtains gray?
Tell me, little girl, I pray.

When the sun is gone, I rise
In the very silent skies;
And a cloud or two doth skim
Round about my silver rim.

All the little stars do seem
Hidden by my brighter beam;
And among them I do ride,
Like a queen in all her pride.

Then the reaper goes along,
Singing forth a merry song,
While I light the shaking leaves
And the yellow harvest sheaves.

Little girl, consider well,
Who this simple tale doth tell;
And I think you'll guess it soon,
For I only am the Moon.
--_Ann Taylor_.

{366}

THE SHEEP

Lazy sheep, pray tell me why
In the pleasant fields you lie,
Eating grass or daisies white,
From the morning till the night?
Everything can something do,
But what kind of use are you?

Nay, my little master, nay,
Do not serve me so, I pray.
Don't you see the wool that grows
On my back to make your clothes?
Cold, and very cold you'd be,
If you had not wool from me.

True, it seems a pleasant thing
To nip the daisies in the spring;
But many chilly nights I pass
On the cold and dewy grass,
Or pick a scanty dinner where
All the common's brown and bare.

Then the farmer comes at last,
When the merry spring is past,
And cuts my woolly coat away,
To warm you in the winter's day.
Little master, this is why
In the pleasant fields I lie.
--_Jane Taylor_.

{367}{368}

THE WOUNDED LAMB
By Von Bremen

"How think ye? if any man have a hundred sheep, and one of them be
gone astray, doth he not leave the ninety and nine, and go unto the
mountains, and seek that which goeth astray? And if so be that he
find it, verily I say unto you, he rejoiceth over it more than over
the ninety and nine which have not gone astray. Even so it is not
the will of your Father who is in heaven, that one of these little
ones should perish."--_The Words of Jesus_
[End illustration]

{369}

THE COW

Thank you, pretty cow, that made
Pleasant milk to soak my bread,
Every day, and every night,
Warm, and fresh, and sweet, and white.

Do not chew the hemlock rank,
Growing on the weedy bank;
But the yellow cowslips eat,
They perhaps will make it sweet.

Where the purple violet grows,
Where the bubbling water flows,
Where the grass is fresh and fine,
Pretty cow, go there and dine.
--_Jane Taylor_.

{370}

Music for "Going to Bed".
[End illustration]

{371}

GOING TO BED

Little baby, lay your head
On your pretty cradle-bed;
Shut your eye-peeps, now the day
And the light are gone away.
All the clothes are tucked in tight;
Little baby dear, good night!

Yes, my darling, well I know
How the bitter wind doth blow;
And the winter's snow and rain
Patter on the window pane.
But they cannot come in here,
To my little baby dear;

For the window shutteth fast,
Till the stormy night is past;
Or the curtains we may spread
Round about her cradle-bed.
So, till morning shineth bright,
Little baby dear, good night!
--_Jane Taylor_.

{372}

BABY AND MAMMA

What a little thing am I!
Hardly higher than the table.
I can eat, and play, and cry,
But to work I am not able.

Nothing in the world I know,
But mamma will try and show me.
Sweet mamma, I love her so,
She's so very kind unto me.

And she sets me on her knee,
Very often, for some kisses.
Oh! how good I'll try to be,
For such a dear mamma as this is.
--_Jane Taylor_.

{373}{374}

CHILD WITH DOG
Sir Joshua Reynolds (1723-1792)
[End illustration]

{375}

THE TEMPEST

See the dark vapors cloud the sky,
The thunder rumbles round and round;
The lightning's flash begins to fly,
Big drops of rain bedew the ground:
The frightened birds with ruffled wing,
Fly through the air and cease to sing.

'T is God who on the tempest rides
And with a word directs the storm,
'T is at His nod the wind subsides,
Or heaps of heavy vapors form.
In fire and cloud He walks the sky,
And lets His stores of tempest fly.
--_Jane Taylor_.

{376}

THE VIOLET

Down in a green and shady bed
A modest violet grew;
Its stalk was bent, it hung its head,
As if to hide from view.

And yet it was a lovely flower,
Its colors bright and fair.
It might have graced a rosy bower,
Instead of hiding there.

Yet there it was content to bloom,
In modest tints arrayed;
And there diffused its sweet perfume,
Within the silent shade.

Then let me to the valley go,
This pretty flower to see,
That I may also learn to grow
In sweet humility.
--_Jane Taylor_.

{377}{378}

SHEEP
By Rosa Bonheur (1822-1899)

One of the most famous artists of the world, born at Bordeaux,
France, March 22, 1822, died 1899. Her best known pictures are the
"Horse Fair" and "Tillage in Nivernais." During the siege of Paris
her studio was saved by the special order of the crown prince of
Prussia. She received the cross of the Legion of Honor in 1865
[End illustration]

{379}

MAY DAY SONG

April's gone, the king of showers;
May is come, the queen of flowers;
Give me something, gentles dear,
For a blessing on the year.
For my garland give, I pray,
Words and smiles of cheerful May:
Birds of spring, to you we come,
Let us pick a little crumb.
--_John Keble_.

{380}

THE LAMB

Little lamb, who made thee?
Dost thou know who made thee,
Gave thee life and bade thee feed
By the stream and o'er the mead;
Gave thee clothing of delight,
Softest clothing, woolly, bright;
Gave thee such a tender voice,
Making all the vales rejoice?
Little lamb, who made thee?
Dost thou know who made thee?

Little lamb, I'll tell thee;
Little lamb, I'll tell thee.
He is called by thy name,
For He calls Himself a Lamb.
He is meek and He is mild,
He became a little child.
I a child and thou a lamb,
We are called by His name.
Little lamb, God bless thee.
Little lamb, God bless thee.
--_William Blake_.

{381}{382}

THE AGE OF INNOCENCE
Sir Joshua Reynolds (1723-1792)
[End illustration]

{383}

SOME MURMUR WHEN THEIR SKY IS CLEAR

Some murmur when their sky is clear
And wholly bright to view,
If one small speck of dark appear
In their great heaven of blue.

And some with thankful love are filled,
If but one streak of light,
One ray of God's good mercy gild
The darkness of their night.

In palaces are hearts that ask,
In discontent and pride,
Why life is such a dreary task
And all good things denied.

And hearts in poorest huts admire
How love has in their aid,
Love that not ever seems to tire,
Such rich provision made.
--_Archbishop Trench_.

{384}

LITTLE DROPS OF WATER

Little drops of water,
Little grains of sand,
Make the mighty ocean,
And the pleasant land.

Then the little minutes,
Humble though they be,
Make the mighty ages
Of eternity.
--_Ebenezer Cobham Brewer_.

{385}

CHRISTMAS HYMNS

{386}

{387} {388}

THE ANNOUNCEMENT TO THE SHEPHERDS
By Bernard Plockhorst (1825- )

"And there were shepherds in the same country abiding in the field,
and keeping watch by night over their flock. And an angel of the
Lord stood by them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about
them: and they were sore afraid. And the angel said unto them, 'Be
not afraid; for behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy which
shall be to all the people: for there is born to you this day in the
city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord. And this is the
sign unto you; Ye shall find a babe wrapped in swaddling clothes,
and lying in a manger.'

"And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly
host praising God, and saying,--

'Glory to God in the highest,
And on earth peace among men in whom he is well pleased.'"
--_Luke 2:8-14_

{389}

CHRISTMAS LULLABY

Sleep, baby, sleep. The mother sings:
Heaven's angels kneel and fold their wings.
Sleep, baby, sleep!

With swaths of scented hay Thy bed
By Mary's hand at eve was spread.
Sleep, baby, sleep!

At midnight came the shepherds, they
Whom seraphs wakened by the way.
Sleep, baby, sleep!

And three kings from the East afar,
Ere dawn, came, guided by the star.
Sleep, baby, sleep!

They brought Thee gifts of gold and gems,
Pure orient pearls, rich diadems.
Sleep, baby, sleep!

But Thou who liest slumbering there,
Art King of kings, earth, ocean, air.
Sleep, baby, sleep!

Sleep, baby, sleep. The shepherds sing:
Through heaven, through earth, hosannas ring.
Sleep, baby, sleep!
--_John Addington Symonds_.

{390}

THE STAR

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.

{391}{392}

MADONNA AND CHILD
By Sichel

"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."
--_Paul Gerhardt_
[End illustration]

{393}

A CHRISTMAS CAROL

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.

{394}

THE GUIDING STAR

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.
--_William C. Dix_.

{395}{396}

THE HOLY NIGHT By Correggio (1493-1534)

Antonio Allegri Correggio, named from the Italian town in which he
was born

"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!"
--_Elizabeth Barrett Browning_
[End illustration]

{397}

A CHRISTMAS CAROL

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_.

{398}

HAIL THE NIGHT! ALL HAIL THE MORN!

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!"
--_Old German Carol_.

{399}{400}

THE NATIVITY

"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."
--_Shakespeare_.
[End illustration]

{401}

THE CHRISTMAS TREE

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.

{402}

A CHRISTMAS CAROL

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."
--_Charles Kingsley_.

{403}{404}

THE HOLY FAMILY
By Carl Mueller

"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."
--_Martin Luther_
[End illustration]

{405}

SONG OF THE ANGELS

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."
--_Ancient Christmas Song_.

{406}

CAROL, SWEETLY CAROL

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!

{407} {408}

THE COMING OF THE MAGI

"'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.'"
--_James Russell Lowell_

"Lo! star-led chiefs Assyrian odors bring,
And bending Magi seek their Infant King."
--_Heber_
[End illustration]

{409}

CRADLE HYMN

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.
--_Martin Luther_.

{410}

Music for "Cradle Hymn".
[End illustration]

{411}

CRADLE HYMN

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.
--_Isaac Watts_.

{412}

CHORUS

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.
--_Robert Herrick_.

{413}{414}

THE ADORATION OF THE CHILDREN
Gherado delle Notte

"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"
[End illustration]

{415}

ONCE IN ROYAL DAVID'S CITY

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.
--_Mrs. C. F. Alexander_.

{417}{418}

MADONNA AND CHILD

"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."
--_Emily Elizabeth Elliott_.
[End illustration]

{419}

CALM ON THE LISTENING EAR OF NIGHT

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!"
--_Edmund Hamilton Sears_.

{421}

HYMNS AND POEMS FOR THE TWILIGHT HOUR

{422}

{423}

READY FOR BED

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!
--_Ida Fay_.

{424}

BABY'S BOAT

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.
--_George Cooper_.

{425}{426}

THE ADORATION OF THE ANGELS
By William Adolph Bouguereau (1825-1905)

"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."
--_James Montgomery_
[End illustration]

{427}

LITTLE VOICES

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."

{429}

THE TWILIGHT FALLS, THE NIGHT IS NEAR

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.

{430}

SAVIOUR, BREATHE AN EVENING BLESSING

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.
--_James Edmeston_.

{431}{432}

THE MADONNA OF THE HARPIES
By Andrea del Sarto (1487-1583)

One of the most famous painters of the Florentine school. He lived
and worked in his native city of Florence except for a sojourn at
Paris, where he was invited by Francis I. This picture is called the
"Madonna of the Harpies" because of the strange figures of harpies
in the border, not shown in this reproduction
[End illustration]

{433}

SUMMER RAIN

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.

{434}

THE GLORIOUS HEAVENS

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."
--_Addison_.

_Adapted from the nineteenth Psalm_.

{435}{436}

JESUS AND JOHN
By Murillo (1618-1682)
[End illustration]

{437}

TWILIGHT

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?
--_Henry Wadsworth Longfellow_.

By permission of Houghton, Mifflin & Co.

{438}

THE PEBBLE AND THE ACORN

"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.
--_Gould_.

{440}

A PSALM OF LIFE

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.
--_Henry Wadsworth Longfellow_.

By permission of Houghton. Mifflin & Co.

{442}

WHILE THEE I SEEK, PROTECTING POWER

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.
--_Helen Maria Williams_.

{443}{444}

MADONNA DELLA TENDA
By Raphael (1483-1520)

"Think ye the notes of holy song
On Milton's tuneful ear have died?
Think ye that Raphael's angel throng
Has vanished from his side?

"Oh, no!--We live our life again;
Or warmly touched, or coldly dim,
The pictures of the Past remain,--
Man's works shall follow him!"
--_John Greenleaf Whittier_.
[End illustration]

{445}

OFT IN THE STILLY NIGHT

Oft in the stilly night,
Ere slumber's chain has bound me,
Fond memory brings the light
Of other days around me;
The smiles, the tears,
Of boyhood's years,
The words of love then spoken,
The eyes that shone,
Now dimmed and gone,
The cheerful hearts now broken!
Thus in the stilly night
Ere slumber's chain has bound me,
Sad memory brings the light
Of other days around me.

When I remember all
The friends, so link'd together,
I've seen around me fall,
Like leaves in wintry weather;
I feel like one
Who treads alone,
Some banquet hall deserted,
Whose lights are fled,
Whose garlands dead,
And all but he departed.
Thus in the stilly night,
Ere slumber's chain has bound me,
Sad memory brings the light
Of other days around me.
--_Thomas Moore_.

{446}

THE BRIDGE

I stood on the bridge at midnight,
As the clocks were striking the hour,
And the moon rose o'er the city,
Behind the dark church tower.

I saw her bright reflection
In the waters under me,
Like a golden goblet falling
And sinking into the sea.

And far in the hazy distance
Of that lovely night in June,
The blaze of the flaming furnace
Gleamed redder than the moon.

Among the long, black rafters
The wavering shadows lay,
And the current that came from the ocean
Seemed to lift and bear them away;

As, sweeping and eddying through them,
Rose the belated tide,
And, streaming into the moonlight,
The seaweed floated wide.

And like those waters rushing
Among the wooden piers,
A flood of thoughts came o'er me
That filled my eyes with tears.

How often, O how often,
In the days that had gone by,
I had stood on that bridge at midnight
And gazed on that wave and sky! {447}

How often, O how often,
I had wished that the ebbing tide
Would bear me away on its bosom
O'er the ocean wild and wide!

For my heart was hot and restless,
And my life was full of care,
And the burden laid upon me
Seemed greater than I could bear.

But now it has fallen from me,
It is buried in the sea;
And only the sorrow of others
Throws its shadow over me.

Yet whenever I cross the river
On its bridge with wooden piers,
Like the odor of brine from the ocean
Comes the thought of other years.

And I think how many thousands
Of care encumbered men,
Each bearing his burden of sorrow,
Have crossed the bridge since then.

I see the long procession
Still passing to and fro,
The young heart hot and restless,
And the old subdued and slow!

And forever and forever,
As long as the river flows,
As long as the heart has passions,
As long as life has woes;

The moon and its broken reflection
And its shadows shall appear
As the symbol of love in heaven,
And its wavering image here.
--_Henry Wadsworth Longfellow_.

By permission of Houghton, Mifflin & Co.

{448}

KINDNESS

A little word in kindness spoken,
A motion or a tear,
Has often healed the heart that's broken,
And made a friend sincere.

A word--a look--has crushed to earth
Full many a budding flower,
Which, had a smile but owned its birth,
Would bless life's darkest hour.

Then deem it not an idle thing
A pleasant word to speak;
The face you wear, the thoughts you bring,
A heart may heal or break.
--_Colesworthy_.

{449}{450}

MADONNA
By Murillo (1618-1682)

"Bright angels are around thee,
They that have served thee from thy birth are there;
Their hands with stars have crowned thee;
Thou, peerless Queen of Air,
As sandals to thy feet the silver moon doth wear."
--_Henry Wadsworth Longfellow_.
[End illustration]

{451}

PERSEVERANCE

A swallow in the spring
Came to our granary, and 'neath the eaves
Essayed to make her nest, and there did bring
Wet earth, and straw, and leaves.

Day after day she toiled
With patient art; but ere her work was crowned
Some sad mishap the tiny fabric spoiled
And dashed it to the ground.

She found the ruin wrought;
Yet not cast down, forth from her place she flew
And with her mate fresh earth and grasses brought
And built her nest anew.

But scarcely had she placed
The last soft feather on its ample floor,
When wicked hands, or chance, again laid waste,
And wrought the ruin o'er.

But still her heart she kept
And toiled again; and, last night hearing calls,
I looked, and lo! three little swallows slept
Within the earth-made walls.

What trust is here, O man!
Hath Hope been smitten in its early dawn?
Have clouds o'ercast thy purpose, trust, or plan?
Have faith, and struggle on!

{452}

THE LIGHT OF STARS

The night is come, but not too soon;
And sinking silently,
All silently, the little moon
Drops down behind the sky.

There is no light in earth or heaven,
But the cold light of stars;
And the first watch of night is given
To the red planet Mars.

Is it the tender star of love?
The star of love and dreams?
O no! from that blue tent above
A hero's armor gleams.

And earnest thoughts within me rise,
When I behold afar,
Suspended in the evening skies
The shield of that red star.

O star of strength! I see thee stand
And smile upon my pain;
Thou beckonest with thy mailed hand,
And I am strong again.

Within my breast there is no light,
But the cold light of stars;
I give the first watch of the night
To the red planet Mars. {453}

The star of the unconquered will.
He rises in my breast
Serene, and resolute, and still.
And calm, and self-possessed.

And thou, too, whosoe'er thou art
That readest this brief psalm,
As one by one thy hopes depart,
Be resolute and calm.

O fear not in a world like this,
And thou shalt know ere long,
Know how sublime a thing it is
To suffer and be strong.
--_Henry Wadsworth Longfellow_.

By permission of Houghton, Mifflin & CD.

{454}

WE ARE SEVEN

I met a little cottage girl;
She was eight years old she said;
Her hair was thick with many a curl
That clustered round her head.

She had a rustic woodland air,
And she was wildly clad;
Her eyes were fair, and very fair,
--Her beauty made me glad.

"Sisters and brothers, little maid,
How many may you be?"
"How many? Seven in all," she said,
And wondering looked at me.

"And who are they? I pray you tell."
She answered, "Seven are we;
And two of us at Conway dwell
And two are gone to sea.

"Two of us in the churchyard lie,
My sister and my brother;
And in the churchyard cottage, I
Dwell near them with my mother."

"You say that two at Conway dwell
And two are gone to sea,
Yet ye are seven! I pray you tell,
Sweet maid, how this may be." {455}

Then did the little maid reply,
"Seven boys and girls are we;
Two of us in the churchyard lie
Beneath the churchyard tree."

"You run about, my little maid,
Your limbs they are alive;
If two are in the churchyard laid,
Then ye are only five."