Chapter 15
In the inn they found no room; a scanty bed they made; Soon a babe, an angel pure, was in the manger laid. Forth He came, as light through glass, He came to save us all. In the stable, ox and ass before their Maker fall.
Shepherds lay afield that night to keep the silly sheep, Hosts of angels in their sight came down from Heaven's high steep:-- Tidings! tidings unto you! to you a child is born, Purer than the drops of dew, and brighter than the morn!
Onward then the angels sped, the shepherds onward went,-- God was in His manger bed; in worship low they bent. In the morning see ye mind, my masters one and all, At the altar Him to find, who lay within the stall.
_Chorus_.
Sing high, sing low, Sing to and fro, Go tell it out with speed, Cry out and shout, All round about, That Christ is born indeed! Pray whither sailed those ships all three On Christmas day in the morning?
Oh, they sailed into Bethlehem On Christmas day, on Christmas day; Oh, they sailed into Bethlehem On Christmas day in the morning.
And all the bells on earth shall ring On Christmas day, on Christmas day; And all the bells on earth shall ring On Christmas day in the morning.
And all the angels in heaven shall sing On Christmas day, on Christmas day; And all the angels in heaven shall sing On Christmas day in the morning.
And all the souls on earth shall sing On Christmas day, on Christmas day; And all the souls on earth shall sing On Christmas day in the morning.
Then let us all rejoice amain On Christmas day, on Christmas day; Then let us all rejoice amain On Christmas day in the morning.
* * * * *
ADDITIONAL PIECES
A CHRISTMAS INSURRECTION
ANNE P.L. FIELD
In the hush of a shivery Christmas-tide dawn Sing hey! sing ho! heigho! Three small frozen figures hung stiff and forlorn Sing hey! sing ho! heigho! Three dim ghostly forms in the glimmering gray Locked up in dark cold storage quarters were they Awaiting the coming of glad Christmas day Sing hey! sing ho! heigho!
Suspended each one from a hickory twig Sing hey! sing ho! heigho! A turkey, a goose, and a little fat pig Sing hey! sing ho! heigho! With chestnuts the turkey was garnished and stuffed With onions and sage was the goose-carcass puffed, While piggy was spiced, and his neck was beruffed Sing hey! sing ho! heigho!
Three spirits regretful were hovering near Sing hey! sing ho! heigho! "Look!" gobbled the turkey's, "what tragedy's here!" Sing hey! sing ho! heigho! "For this did they tempt me with fattening food, For this did I bring up my beautiful brood, I always thought farmers uncommonly rude!" Sing hey! sing ho! heigho!
The goose spirit trembled, then hissingly said Sing hey! sing ho! heigho! "Most men care for nothing except to be fed!" Sing hey! sing ho! heigho! "What horror is this, filled with onions and sage To be served on a platter at my tender age! 'Tis enough any well-disposed fowl to enrage!" Sing hey! sing ho! heigho!
The phantom pig grunted, "Do please look at that!" Sing hey! sing ho! heigho! "Oh! why did I grow up so rosy and fat!" Sing hey! sing ho! heigho! "They put in my mouth a sweet, juicy corncob Just when of sensations my palate they rob, Do you wonder such sights make a spirit-pig sob!" Sing hey! sing ho! heigho!
Conferring, the spirits resolved on a plan Sing hey! sing ho! heigho! By which to wreak vengeance on merciless man Sing hey! sing ho! heigho! "We'll each disagree with the human inside, We'll cause indigestion and damage his pride, And the pains of this Christmas we'll spread far and wide!" Sing hey! sing ho! heigho!
* * * * *
THE NIGHT AFTER CHRISTMAS
ANNE P.L. FIELD
Twas the night after Christmas in Santa-Claus land And to rest from his labors St. Nicholas planned. The reindeer were turned out to pasture and all The ten thousand assistants discharged till the fall. The furry great-coat was laid safely away With the boots and the cap with its tassel so gay, And toasting his toes by a merry wood fire, What more could a weary old Santa desire? So he puffed at his pipe and remarked to his wife, "This amply makes up for my strenuous life! From climbing down chimneys my legs fairly ache, But it's well worth the while for the dear children's sake. I'd bruise every bone in my body to see The darlings' delight in a gift-laden tree!" Just then came a sound like a telephone bell-- Though why they should have such a thing I can't tell-- St. Nick gave a snort and exclaimed in a rage, "Bad luck to inventions of this modern age!" He grabbed the receiver--his face wore a frown As he roared in the mouth-piece, "I will not come down To exchange any toys like an up-to-date store, Ring off, I'll not listen to anything more!" Then he settled himself by the comforting blaze And waxed reminiscent of halcyon days When children were happy with simplest of toys: A doll for the girls and a drum for the boys-- But again came that noisy disturber of peace The telephone bell--would the sound never cease? "Run and answer it, wife, all my patience has fled, If they keep this thing up I shall wish I were dead! I have worked night and day the best part of a year To supply all the children, and what do I hear-- A boy who declares he received roller-skates When he wanted a gun--and a cross girl who states That she asked for a new Victor talking machine And I brought her a sled, so she thinks I am 'mean!'" Poor St. Nicholas looked just the picture of woe, He needed some auto-suggestion, you know, To make him think things were all coming out right, For he didn't get one wink of slumber that night! The telephone wire was kept sizzling hot By children disgusted with presents they'd got, And when the bright sun showed its face in the sky The Santa-Claus family were ready to cry! Just then something happened--a way of escape, Though it came in the funniest possible shape-- An aeronaut, sorely in need of a meal, Descended for breakfast--it seemed quite ideal! For the end of it was, he invited his host Out to try the balloon, of whose speed he could boast. St. Nick, who was nothing if not a good sport, Was delighted to go, and as quick as a thought Climbed into the car for a flight in the air-- "No telephone bells can disturb me up there! And, wife, if it suits me I'll count it no crime To stay up till ready for next Christmas time!" Thus saying--he sailed in the giant balloon, And I fear that he will not return very soon. Now, when you ask "Central" for Santa-Claus land She'll say, "discontinued"--and you'll understand.
* * * * *
WHEN THE STARS OF MORNING SANG
ANNE P.L. FIELD
When the stars of morning sang Long ago, Sweet the air with music rang Through the snow, There beside the mother mild Slept the blessed Christmas child,-- Slumber holy, undefiled-- Here below.
When the wise men traveled far Through the night, Following the guiding star Pure and bright, Lo! it stood above the place Sanctified by Heaven's grace, And upon the Christ-Child's face Shed its light.
When the world lay hushed and still Christmas morn, Suddenly were skies athrill-- "Christ is born!" Angel voices, high and clear, Chanted tidings of good cheer, "See, the Infant King is here, Christ is born!"
* * * * *
A PRAYER AT BETHLEHEM
ANNE P.L. FIELD
O pulsing earth with heart athrill With infinite creative will! O watchful shepherds in whose eyes Sweet hopes and promises arise! O angel-host whose chanting choir Proclaims fulfillment of desire! O flaming star so purely white Against the black Judean night! O blessed Mary bending low With sense of motherhood aglow! O holy Babe with haloed head Soft pillowed in a manger bed! O Mystery divine and deep Help us Thy prophecies to keep!
* * * * *
THE CHRISTMAS FIRES
ANNE P.L. FIELD
The Christmas fires brightly gleam And dance among the holly boughs, The Christmas pudding's spicy steam With fragrance fills the house, While merry grows each friendly soul Over the foaming wassail bowl.
Resplendent stands the glitt'ring tree, Weighted with gifts for old and young, The children's faces shine with glee, And joyous is each tongue, While lads and lassies come and go Under the festive mistletoe.
When suddenly the frosty air Is filled with music, voices sweet, Lo! see the Christmas waits are there Snow-crowned and bare of feet, Yet high and clear their voices ring, And glad their Christmas carolling.
* * * * *
CAROL
O Child of Mary's tender care! O little Child so pure and fair! Cradled within the manger hay On that divine first Christmas day! The hopes of every age and race Are centered in Thy radiant face!
O Child whose glory fills the earth! O little Child of lowly birth! The shepherds, guided from afar, Stood worshiping beneath the star, And wise-men fell on bended knee And homage offered unto Thee!
O Child of whom the angels sing! O little Child, our Infant King! What balm for every sorrow lies Within those clear, illumined eyes! O precious gift to mortals given To win us heritage in Heaven!
* * * * *
THE MOTHER
ROBERT HAVEN SCHAUFFLER
All day her watch had lasted on the plateau above the town. And now the sun slanted low over the dull, blue sheen of the western sea, playing changingly with the angular mountain which rose abruptly from its surge.
The young matron did not heed the magic which was transforming the theater of hills to the north and lingering lovingly at last on the eastern summit. Nor had she any eyes for the changing hue of the ivy-clad cubes of stone that formed the village over which her hungry gaze passed, sweeping the length and breadth of the plain below.
She seemed not much above thirty: tall, erect and lithe. Her throat, bared to the breeze, was of the purest modeling; her skin of a whiteness unusual in that warm climate. Her head, a little small for her rounded figure, was crowned with a coil of chestnut hair, and her eyes glowed with a look strange to the common light of every day. It was her soul that was scanning that southward country.
From time to time she would fondle a small object hidden beneath the white folds of her robe. Once she threw her arms out in a passionate gesture toward the plain, and tears overflowed the beautiful eyes. Again she fell on her knees, and the throes of inner prayer found relief at her lips:
"Father, my Father, grant me to see him ere the dusk!"
Once again she sank down, moaning:
"He is in Thine everlasting arms. But Thou, who knowest times and seasons, give him to me on this day of days!"
Under the curve of a shielding hand her vision strained through the clear, pure air,--strained and found at last two specks far out in the plain, and followed them breathlessly as they crept nearer. One traveler was clad in a dark garment, and stopped presently, leaving his light-robed companion to hasten on alone toward the hungry-eyed woman on the plateau.
All at once she gathered her skirt with a joyous cry and ran with lithe, elastic steps down through the village.
They met on a low, rounded hill near the plain.
"My son, my darling!" she cried, catching him passionately to her bosom. "We have searched, and waited, and agonized," she continued after a pause, smiling at him through her happy tears. "But it matters nothing now. I have thee again."
"My mother," said the boy as he caressed her cheek, looking at her dreamily, "I have been with my cousin. Even now he waits below for me. I must bid thee farewell. I must pass from thy face forever."
His lip trembled a little, but he smiled bravely. "For it is the will of God, the Father."
The mother's face went ashen. She tottered and would have fallen but for his slender arm about her.
Her thoughts were whirling in wild confusion, yet she knew that she must decide calmly, wisely, quickly.
Her lips moved, but made no sound.
"Oh, lay Thy wise and gracious hand upon me!" was what she breathed in silence.
Then her voice sounded rich and happy and fresh, as it had always sounded for him.
"His will be done. Thou comest to bid farewell to thy brothers and father?"
"It may not be," he answered. "My lot henceforth is to flee the touch of the world, the unsympathetic eye, the ribald tongue of those like my brothers--the defilement of common life."
The mother pressed him closer.
"Say all that is in thine heart," she murmured. "We will bide here."
They sank down together on the soft, bright turf, facing the brilliance of the west, she holding her child as of old in the hollow of her arm.
He began to speak.
"For long and long a voice within me said, 'Go and seek thy cousin.' So I sought and found, and we abode together in the woods and fields, and were friends with our dear brothers the beasts, and the fishes, and the birds. There, day by day, my cousin would tell me of the dream that filled his soul and of the holy men who had put the dream there."
The mother's eyes grew larger with a swift terror, but she held her peace.
"And at the last, when the beauty, the wind, the sun, the rain, and the voice of God, had purified me in some measure, my cousin brought me to visit these holy men."
The clear, boyish voice rose and began to vibrate with enthusiasm.
"Ah, mother, _they_ are the chosen ones of God! Sweet and grave and gentle they are, and theirs is the perfect life. They dwell spotless and apart from the world. They own one common purse, and spend their lives working with their hands and pondering and dreaming on purity, goodness, and the commands of the great law."
He sprang up in his excitement from her encircling arm and stood erect and wide-eyed before her.
"Ah, mother, they are so good that they would do nothing on the Sabbath, even to saving their own lives or the lives of their animals, or their brothers. They bathe very often in sacred water. They have no wives, and mortify the flesh, and--"
"What is their aim in this?" the mother interrupted gently.
The boy was aflame with his subject.
"Ah, that is it--the great goal toward which they all run," he cried. "They are doing my Father's work, and I must help! Hear, hear what is before me: When a young novice comes to them they give him the symbols of purity: a spade, an apron, and a white robe to wear at the holy meals. In a year he receives a closer fellowship and the baths of purification. After that he enters the state of bodily purity. Then little by little he enters into purity of the spirit, meekness, holiness. He becomes a temple of the Holy Spirit, and prophesies. Ah, think, mother, how sweet it would be to lie entranced there for days and weeks in an earthly paradise, with no rough world to break the spell, while the angels sing softly in one's ears! I, even I, have already tasted of that bliss."
"Say on," she breathed. "What does the holy man do then?"
"Then," the inspired, boyish tones continued--"then he performs miracles, and finally--" he clasped her hand convulsively--"he becomes Elias, the forerunner of the Messiah!"
From far out in the wilderness came a melancholy cry.
"It is John, my cousin," said the boy, radiant, half turning himself at the sound. "I must go to him."
She drew in her breath sharply, and rose to her feet.
"Bear a message to John," she said. "Not pourings of water, nor white robes; not times and seasons, nor feasts in darkness and silence, shall hasten the kingdom of heaven; neither formulas, nor phylacteries, nor madness on the Sabbath. Above all, no selfish, proud isolation shall usher in the glorious reign of the Messiah. These holy men,--these Essenes,--are but stricter, sterner, nobler Pharisees. Tell thy cousin to take all the noble and fine, to reject all the selfish and unmeaning, in their lives. Doctrine is not in heaven. Not by fasts and scourgings, not by vigils and scruples about the law; not by selfishly shutting out the world, but by taking all poor, suffering, erring, striving humanity into his heart will he become the true Elias."
There was a breathless, thrilling moment of perfect silence as the glowing eyes of the mother looked deep into the astonished, questioning eyes of the son.
Then she rested both hands on his shoulders and spoke almost in a whisper.
"As for thee, the time is now come. Does my son know what this day means?"
He looked at her wonderingly and was silent.
The mother spoke:
"For many years I have kept these things and pondered them in my heart. Now, _now_ the hour is here when thou must know them."
She bent so close that a strand of loosened hair swept his forehead.
"In the time before thou wert born came as in a dream a wondrous visitor to me straight from the Father. And that pure, ecstatic messenger announced that the power of the Highest would overshadow me, and that my child was to be the son of the Highest, who should save His people from their sins--the Prince of Peace--the Messiah!"
From the wilderness came a long, melancholy cry, but the rapt boy heard not.
The mother continued in the soft, tender voice that began to tremble with her in her ecstasy.
"This day is thy birthday. Twelve years ago this eventide, when thou camest into the world of men, men came to worship and praise God for thee,--the lowliest and the highest,--as a token that thou wert to be not only Son of God but Son of Man as well. Poor, ignorant shepherds crowded about us in that little stable where we lay, and left the sweet savor of their prayers, and tears, and rejoicings. And great, wise kings from another part of the earth came also."
From beneath the folds of her robe she drew forth by a fine-spun chain an intricately chased casket of soft, yellow gold.
The boy took it dreamily into his hands, and as his fingers opened it, there floated forth upon the air of the hills of Nazareth the sacred odor of incense mingled with a perfume indescribably delicate and precious.
"Read!" whispered the mother.
The boy held his breath suddenly.
There, on the lower surface of the lid, graven in rude characters, as if on the inspiration of the moment, stood the single word
LOVE
She flung wide her arms as if to embrace the universe.
"Love! Love! Love!" she cried in her rich mother's voice. "It is the greatest thing in the world! It is the message of the Messiah!"
The heavens over the sea were of molten gold, and a golden glow seemed to radiate from the boyish face that confronted them. In their trance-like ecstasy the wonderful eyes gazed full into the blinding west--gazed on and on until day had passed into night.
One iterant sound alone, as it drew closer, stirred the silence of that evening: it was the voice of one crying in the wilderness.
* * * * *
THE END
* * * * *
Transcriber's notes.
1. There is an editorial error in the original edition of this book: "The Star Song" by Robert Herrick is listed in the Table of Contents but not included in the text. For this edition "The Star Song" was removed from the Table of Contents.
2. In the "Inexhaustibility of the Subject of Christmas" by Leigh Hunt the following sentence:
"There are two p's, observe, in plenipotential; and so there are in plum-pudding. We love an exquisite fitness,--a might and wealth of adaptation).
is transcribed:
(There are two p's, observe, in plenipotential; and so there are in plum-pudding. We love an exquisite fitness,--a might and wealth of adaptation).
3. In "Christmas Holly:"
I sing the holly, and who can breathe Aught of that that is not good? Then sing to the holly, the Christmas holly, That hangs over peasant and king;
was changed as follows to correct an error and to preserve the symmetrical verse structure [4,8,8,8,4]:
I sing the holly, and who can breathe Aught of that that is not good?
Then sing to the holly, the Christmas holly, That hangs over peasant and king;
4. In "Sery" by Richard Watson Gilder:
At a very queer sight In the dim starlight. As plain as can be
A fairy tree
was changed to:
At a very queer sight In the dim starlight.
As plain as can be A fairy tree
5. In Christmas Dreams, the word "stravaigging" was corrected to "stravaiging."
6. "Hang up the Baby's Stocking" was not attributed in the Table of Contents or in the text in the original edition. For clarity this edition attributed both as follows: [Emily Huntington Miller]. Attribution makes the text more readable. Without it one could believe the poem to have been written by Andrew Lang; especially after Haven inserts an extra poem by Southwell, "A Carol" following "The Wassailer's Song," which is unlisted in the contents.
7. Finally, the 1907 edition includes a story called "Golden Cobwebs" at the close of section IV that was not included in the 1968 edition used for this transcription.