Joy rose within her, like a summer's morn;
Peace, peace on earth! the Prince of Peace is born.

Thou mother of the Prince of Peace,

Poor, simple, and of low estate,
That strife should vanish, battle cease,

O why should this thy soul elate ?
Sweet music's loudest note, the poet's story,—
Didst thou ne'er love to hear of fame and glory?

And is not war a youthful king,

A stately hero clad in mail ? Beneath his footsteps laurels spring;

Ilim earth's majestic monarchs hail Their friend, their playmate! and his bold bright eye Compels the maiden's love-confessing sigh.

“ Tell this in some more courtly scene,

To maids and youths in robes of state !
I am a woman poor and mean,

And, therefore, is my soul elate.
War is a ruffian, all with guilt defiled,
That from the aged father tears his child !

“A murderous fiend, by fiends adored,

He kills the sire and starves the son; The husband kills, and from her board

Steals all his widow's toil had won ? Plunders God's world of beauty; rends away All safety from the night, all comfort from the day.

“ Then wisely is my soul elate,

That strife should vanislı, battle cease:

I'm poor and of a low estate,

The mother of the Prince of Peace.
Joy rises in me, like a summer's morn:
Peace, peace on earth, the Prince of Peace is born.”

O star which led to IIim, whose love

Brought down man's ransom free;
Where art thou ?-?midst the hosts above,

May we still gaze on thee?

Though rude winds usher thee, sweet day,

Though clouds thy face deform,
Though nature's grace is swept away

Before thy sleety storm ;
E’en in thy sombrest wintry vest,
Of blessed days thou art most blest.

Nor frigid air nor gloomy morn

Shall check our jubilee;
Bright is the day when Christ was born,

No sun need shine but He;
Let roughest storms their coldest blow,
With love of Him our hearts shall glow.

Inspired with high and holy thought,

Fancy is on the wing;
It seems as to mine ear it brought

Those voices carolling,
Voices through heaven and earth that ran,
Glory to God, good-will to man.

I see the shepherds gazing wild

At those fair spirits of light;

CHRISTMAS DAY.

I see them bending o'er the child

With that untold delight,
Which marks the face of those who view
Things but too happy to be true.

There, in the lowly manger laid,

Incarnate God they see,
He stoops to take, through spotless maid,

Our frail humanity;
Son of high God, creation's Heir,
He leaves His heaven to raise us there.

Through Ilim, Lord, we are born anew,

Thy children once again,
Oh, day by day our hearts renew,

That Thine we may remain ;
And angel-like, may all agree,
One sweet and holy family.

Oft as this joyous morn doth come

To speak our Saviour's love, Oh, may it bear our spirits home

Where He now reigns above; That day which brought Him from the skies So man restores to Paradise.

Then let winds usher thee, sweet day,

Let clouds thy face deform,
Though nature's grace is swept away

Before thy sleety storm ;
E'en in thy sombrest wintry vest,
Of blessed days thou art most blest.

THE NATIVITY.

(w. J. BLEW.)

Night is set in, the stars their lamps are raising ;

Each dewy flower hath closed its perfumed chalice ;
O’er the blue hills the city lights are blazing,

And the gay cressets gleam in cot and palace.
Down the green sheep tracks rest the flocks enfolden,

Round their still cotes the hinds their fires are waking,
While in the homes of Bethlehem lie holden
Eyes all unconscious of the mystery breaking.

Oh, wonder of all wonders,

The hinds their watch are keeping,
A babe is in the manger-

Christ Jesus there is sleeping;
The oxen round him lowing,

The ass his forehead bowing,
The maiden mother kneeling,

While night is o’er them stealing.
Soon shall a fire-flood kindle up the horizon,

Paling the night stars in their fairy shining,
Paling the broad sun at his first uprising,

Paling the bright moon at his red declining.
Hark, through the opened lattice of Heaven's portals

Soundeth—“To God be glory in the highest,
Peace be on earth ; Good will to loving mortals.”
Peace to thee, Christian, while with joy thou criest.

Oh wonder of all wonders,

The hinds their watch are keeping,
A babe is in the manger-

Christ Jesus there is sleeping;