Part 2

The mother smiles and rejoices While the baby laughs in the hay; She listens to heavenly voices: "The child shall be king, one day."

O dear little Christ in the manger, Let me make merry with thee. O King, in my hour of danger, Wilt thou be strong for me?

_Adapted from the Latin of Jacopone da Todi by Sophie Jewett_

_From "The Poems of Sophie Jewett." Included by permission of the Thomas Y. Crowell Company._

THE CHRISTMAS SILENCE

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!

_Margaret Deland_

_Included by permission of the author._

BRING A TORCH, JEANETTE, ISABELLA!

Bring a torch, Jeanette, Isabella! Bring a torch, to the cradle run! It is Jesus, good folk of the village; Christ is born, and Mary's calling; Ah! Ah! beautiful is the mother; Ah! Ah! beautiful is her son.

It is wrong when the Child is sleeping, It is wrong to talk so loud; Silence, all, as you gather around, Lest your noise should waken Jesus: Hush! Hush! see how fast He slumbers; Hush! Hush! see how fast He sleeps.

Who goes there a-knocking so loudly? Who goes there a-knocking like that? Ope your doors, I have here on a plate Some very good cakes which I am bringing: Toc! Toc! quickly your doors now open; Toc! Toc! come let us make good cheer.

Softly to the little stable, Softly for a moment come; Look and see how charming is Jesus, How He is white, His cheeks are rosy. Hush! Hush! see how the Child is sleeping; Hush! Hush! see how He smiles in dreams.

_Provençal Noël of Nicholas Saboly_

CHRISTMAS FOLKSONG

The little Jesus came to town; The wind blew up, the wind blew down; Out in the street the wind was bold. Now who would house Him from the cold?

Then opened wide a stable door Fain were the rushes on the floor; The Ox put forth a horned head: "Come, little Lord, here make Thy bed."

Uprose the Sheep were folded near: "Thou Lamb of God, come, enter here." He entered there to rush and reed, Who was the Lamb of God indeed.

The little Jesus came to town; With ox and sheep He laid Him down. Peace to the byre, peace to the fold, For that they housed Him from the cold.

_Lisette Woodworth Reese_

_Included by permission of Thomas B. Mosher._

AS JOSEPH WAS A-WALKING

As Joseph was a-walking He heard an angel sing:-- "This night there shall be born Our heavenly King.

"He neither shall be born In housen, nor in hall, Nor in the place of Paradise, But in an ox's stall.

"He neither shall be clothéd In purple nor in pall; But in the fair, white linen, That usen babies all.

"He neither shall be rockéd In silver nor in gold, But in a wooden cradle That rocks on the mould.

"He neither shall be christened In white wine nor in red, But with fair spring water With which we were christenéd."

Mary took her baby, She dressed Him so sweet, She laid Him in a manger, All there for to sleep.

As she stood over Him She heard angels sing, "O bless our dear Saviour, Our heavenly King."

_From the Cherry Tree Carol_

CRADLE HYMN

Away in a manger, no crib for a bed, The little Lord Jesus laid down his sweet 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_

A CHRISTMAS CAROL

In the bleak mid-winter Frosty wind made moan, Earth stood hard as iron, Water like a stone; Snow had fallen, snow on snow, Snow on snow, In the bleak mid-winter Long ago.

Our God, Heaven cannot hold Him Nor earth sustain; Heaven and earth shall flee away When He comes to reign. In the bleak mid-winter A stable-place sufficed The Lord God Almighty Jesus Christ.

Angels and archangels May have gathered there, Cherubim and seraphim Thronged the air; But only His Mother In her maiden bliss Worshipped her Beloved With a kiss.

What can I give Him, Poor as I am? If I were a shepherd I would bring a lamb, If I were a Wise Man, I would do my part,-- Yet what I can I give Him, Give my heart.

_Christina G. Rossetti_

CAROL

When the herds were watching In the midnight chill, Came a spotless lambkin From the heavenly hill.

Snow was on the mountains, And the wind was cold, When from God's own garden Dropped a rose of gold.

When 'twas bitter winter, Houseless and forlorn In a star-lit stable Christ the Babe was born.

Welcome, heavenly lambkin; Welcome, golden rose; Alleluia, Baby, In the swaddling clothes!

_William Canton_

A CHILD'S PRESENT TO HIS CHILD-SAVIOUR

Go, pretty child, and bear this flower Unto thy little Saviour; And tell Him, by that bud now blown, He is the Rose of Sharon known. When thou hast said so, stick it there Upon His bib, or stomacher; And tell Him, for good handsel[A] too, That thou hast brought a whistle new, Made of a clean straight oaten reed, To charm his cries at time of need. Tell Him, for coral thou hast none, But if thou hadst, He should have one; But poor thou art, and known to be Even as moneyless as He. Lastly, if thou canst win a kiss From those mellifluous lips of His, Then never take a second on, To spoil the first impression.

_Robert Herrick_

[A] handsel: a gift for good luck.

A CHRISTMAS CAROL

There's a song in the air! There's a star in the sky! There's a mother's deep prayer And a baby's low cry! And the star rains its fire while the Beautiful sing, For the manger of Bethlehem cradles a king.

There's a tumult of joy O'er the wonderful birth, For the virgin's sweet boy Is the Lord of the earth, Ay! the star rains its fire and the Beautiful sing, For the manger of Bethlehem cradles a king.

In the light of that star Lie the ages impearled; And that song from afar Has swept over the world. Every hearth is aflame, and the Beautiful sing In the homes of the nations that Jesus is King.

We rejoice in the light, And we echo the song That comes down through the night From the heavenly throng. Ay! we shout to the lovely evangel they bring, And we greet in His cradle our Saviour and King.

_Josiah Gilbert Holland_

THE SHEPHERD WHO STAYED

_There are in Paradise Souls neither great nor wise, Yet souls who wear no less The crown of faithfulness._

My master bade me watch the flock by night; My duty was to stay. I do not know What thing my comrades saw in that great light, I did not heed the words that bade them go, I know not were they maddened or afraid; I only know I stayed.

The hillside seemed on fire; I felt the sweep Of wings above my head; I ran to see If any danger threatened these my sheep. What though I found them folded quietly, What though my brother wept and plucked my sleeve, They were not mine to leave.

Thieves in the wood and wolves upon the hill, My duty was to stay. Strange though it be, I had no thought to hold my mates, no will To bid them wait and keep the watch with me. I had not heard that summons they obeyed; I only know I stayed.

Perchance they will return upon the dawn With word of Bethlehem and why they went. I only know that watching here alone, I know a strange content. I have not failed that trust upon me laid; I ask no more--I stayed.

_Theodosia Garrison_

_Included by permission of the author and of The Century Company._

GOOD KING WENCESLAS

Good King Wenceslas looked out On the Feast of Stephen, When the snow lay round about, Deep, and crisp, and even.

Brightly shone the moon that night Though the frost was cruel, When a poor man came in sight, Gath'ring winter fuel.

"Hither, page, and stand by me, If thou know'st it, telling. Yonder peasant, who is he? Where and what his dwelling?"

"Sire, he lives a good league hence, Underneath the mountain; Right against the forest fence, By Saint Agnes' fountain."

"Bring me flesh, and bring me wine, Bring me pine-logs hither; Thou and I shall see him dine, When we bear them thither."

Page and monarch, forth they went, Forth they went together; Through the rude wind's wild lament And the bitter weather.

"Sire, the night is darker now, And the wind blows stronger; Fails my heart, I know not how, I can go no longer."

"Mark my footsteps, good my page; Tread thou in them boldly: Thou shalt find the winter rage Freeze thy blood less coldly."

In his master's steps he trod, Where the snow lay dinted; Heat was in the very sod Where the saint has printed.

Therefore, Christian men, be sure, Wealth or rank possessing, Ye who now will bless the poor, Shall yourselves find blessing.

_Translated from the Latin by J. M. Neale_

WE THREE KINGS

We Three Kings of Orient are, Bearing gifts we traverse afar, Field and fountain, Moor and mountain, Following yonder star.

_Chorus_ O Star of wonder, Star of night, Star with Royal Beauty bright, Westward leading. Still proceeding, Guide us to Thy perfect Light.

Gaspard: Born a king on Bethlehem plain, Gold I bring to crown Him again; King forever, Ceasing never Over us all to reign.

Chorus: O Star of wonder....

Melchior: Frankincense to offer have I, Incense owns a deity nigh; Prayer and praising All men raising, Worship Him God on high.

Chorus: O Star of wonder....

Balthazar: Myrrh is mine; its bitter perfume Breathes a life of gathering gloom; Sorrowing, sighing, Bleeding, dying, Sealed in a stone-cold tomb.

Chorus: O Star of wonder....

Glorious now behold Him arise, King and God, and Sacrifice; Heav'n sings Allelujah: Allelujah, The earth replies.

_J. H. Hopkins, Jr._

GOD REST YE, MERRY GENTLEMEN

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_

THE WASSAIL SONG

Here we come a-wassailing Among the leaves so green, Here we come a-wandering So fair to be seen.

Love and joy come to you And to your wassail too, And God bless you, and send you A happy New Year.

We are not daily beggars That beg from door to door, But we are neighbours' children That you have seen before.

Good Master and good Mistress, As you sit by the fire, Pray think of us poor children Who are wandering in the mire.

Bring us out a table And spread it with a cloth; Bring us out a mouldy cheese And some of your Christmas loaf.

God bless the master of this house, Likewise the mistress too; And all the little children That round the table go.

_Old Devonshire Carol_

_Included by permission of The H. W. Gray Company._

WASSAILER'S SONG

Wassail! Wassail! all over the town, Our bread it is white, our ale it is brown; Our bowl is made of a maplin tree; We be good fellows all;--I drink to thee.

Here's to our horse, and to his right ear, God send master a happy new year; A happy new year as ever he did see,-- With my wassail bowl I drink to thee.

Here's to our mare, and to her right eye, God send our mistress a good Christmas pie; A good Christmas pie as e'er I did see,-- With my wassailing bowl I drink to thee.

Here's to our cow, and to her long tail, God send our master us never may fail Of a cup of good beer: I pray you draw near, And our jolly wassail it's then you shall hear.

Be here any maids? I suppose here be some; Sure they will not let young men stand on the cold stone! Sing hey, O, maids! come trole back the pin, And the fairest maid in the house let us all in.

Come, butler, come, bring us a bowl of the best; I hope your souls in heaven will rest; But if you do bring us a bowl of the small, Then, down fall butler, and bowl and all.

_Robert Southwell_

CAROL IN PRAISE OF THE HOLLY AND IVY

(_Holly and Ivy Made a Great Party_)

Holly and Ivy made a great party, Who should have the mastery In lands where they go.

Then spake Holly, "I am fierce and jolly, I will have the mastery In lands where we go."

Then spake Ivy, "I am loud and proud, And I will have the mastery In lands where we go."

Then spake Holly, and bent him down on his knee, "I pray thee, gentle Ivy, Essay me no villany In the lands where we go."

_Fifteenth Century Carol_

CEREMONIES FOR CHRISTMAS

Come, bring with a noise, My merry, merry boys, The Christmas log to the firing, While my good dame, she Bids ye all be free, And drink to your heart's desiring.

With the last year's brand Light the new block, and For good success in his spending, On your psalteries play, That sweet luck may Come while the log is a-tending.

Drink now the strong beer, Cut the white loaf here, The while the meat is a-shredding; For the rare mince-pie And the plums stand by To fill the paste that's a-kneading.

_Robert Herrick_

CHRISTMAS EVE--ANOTHER CEREMONY

Come, guard this night the Christmas-pie, That the thief, though ne'er so sly, With his flesh-hooks, don't come nigh To catch it.

From him, who alone sits there, Having his eyes still in his ear, And a deal of nightly fear To watch it.

ANOTHER TO THE MAIDS

Wash your hands, or else the fire Will not tend to your desire; Unwashed hands, ye maidens, know, Dead the fire, though ye blow.

_Robert Herrick_

OUR JOYFUL FEAST

So, now is come our joyful feast, Let every soul be jolly! Each room with ivy leaves is drest, And every post with holly. Though some churls at our mirth repine, Round your brows let garlands twine, Drown sorrow in a cup of wine, And let us all be merry!

Now all our neighbours' chimneys smoke, And Christmas logs are burning; Their ovens with baked meats do choke, And all their spits are turning. Without the door let sorrow lie, And if for cold it hap to die, We'll bury it in Christmas pie, And evermore be merry!

_George Wither_