CHRISTMAS HYMN.

ARK! hark! with harps of gold,
What anthem do they sing ?-

The radiant clouds have backward
rolled,

And angels smite the string.

"Glory to God!"-bright wings

Spread glistening and afar,

And on the hallowed rapture rings

From circling star to star.

"Glory to God!" repeat
The glad earth and the sea ;

And every wind and billow fleet,
Bears on the jubilee.

Where Hebrew bard hath sung,

Or Hebrew bard hath trod,

Each holy spot has found a tongue : "Let glory be to God."

Soft swells the music now

Along that shining choir,

And every seraph bends his brow
And breathes above his lyre.
What words of heavenly birth
Thrill deep our hearts again,
And fall like dew-drops to the earth?
"Peace and good will to men."

Soft!-yet the soul is bound With rapture like a chain: Earth, vocal, whispers them around, And heaven repeats the strain. Sound, harps, and hail the morn With every golden string;—

For unto us this day is born

A Saviour and a King!

E. H. CHAPIN.

CHRISTMAS BELLS.

(HE bells-the bells-the Christmas bells

How merrily they ring!

As if they felt the joy they tell
To every human thing.

The silvery tones, o'er vale and hill,
Are swelling soft and clear,
As, wave on wave, the tide of sound
Fills the bright atmosphere.

The bells the merry Christmas bells,
They're ringing in the morn!
They ring when in the eastern sky
The golden light is born;

They ring, as sunshine tips the hills,
And gilds the village spire-

When, through the sky, the sovereign sun
Rolls his full orb of fire.

The Christmas bells-the Christmas bells,
How merrily they ring!

To weary hearts a pulse of joy,
A kindlier life they bring.

The poor man on his couch of straw,
The rich on downy bed,

Hail the glad sounds, as voices sweet
Of angels overhead.

The bells the silvery Christmas bells,
O'er many a mile they sound!
And household tones are answering them
In thousand homes around.

Voices of childhood, blithe and shrill,
With youth's strong accents blend,
And manhood's deep and earnest tones
With woman's praise ascend.

The bells-the solemn Christmas bells,
They're calling us to prayer;

And hark, the voice of worshippers
Floats on the morning air.
Anthems of noblest praise there'll be,
And glorious hymns to-day,

TE DEUMS loud and GLORIAS:

Come, to the Church,-away.

JOHN W. BROWN.

AVISON.

CHORUS.

HOUT the glad tidings, exultingly

sing;

Jerusalem triumphs, Messiah is
King!

Sion, the marvellous story be telling,

The Son of the Highest, how lowly His birth!

The brightest Archangel in glory excelling,

He stoops to redeem thee, he reigns upon earth.

Tell how He cometh; from nation to nation, The heart-cheering news let the earth echo round;

How free to the faithful He offers salvation,

How His people with joy everlasting is crowned.