there;

Then showers Religion, and makes all to bear.
Spain in the empire shared with Germany,
But England in the higher victory;
Giving the Church a crown to keep her state.
George Herbert.

410. CHRISTIANS, Death of Meeting with Time, "Slack thing," said I, "Thy scythe is dull; whet it, for shame." "No marvel, sir," he did reply,

"If it at length deserve some blame. But where one man would have me grind it, Twenty for one too sharp do find it.

Perhaps some such of old did pass,
Who above all things lov'd his life;
To whom thy scythe a hatchet was,

Which now is but a pruning knife. Christ's coming hath made man thy debtor, Since, by the cutting, he grows better.

And in His blessing thou art blest.

For, where thou only wert before
An executioner at best,

Thou art a gard'ner now; and, more,
An usher to convey our souls
Beyond the utmost stars and poles.

And this is that makes life so long,
While it detains us from our God.
Ev'n pleasures here increase the wrong,

And length of days lengthen the rod; Who wants the place where God doth dwell, Partakes already half of hell.

Of what strange length must that need be,
Which ev'n Eternity excludes !
Thus far Time heard me patiently;

Then, chafing, said, "This man deludes! What do I here before his door?

He doth not crave less time, but more." George Herbert.

411. CHRISTIANS, Enlistment of We leave now behind us The world and its crowd; We set now before us

The home of our God.

We take up our cross now

To follow the Lamb,
We close round His banner,
For glory or shame.

We take up the armor

Our Captain hath given,
The sword and the breastplate,
The helmet of heaven.
In faith thus defying
The foe and the sin,
We fight our life's battle;
We fight and we win.

Horatius Bonar.
412. CHRISTIANS, Fearlessness of.
Who the Creator love, created night

Dread not: within their tents no terrors walk.

For they are holy things before the Lord,
Aye unprofaned, though earth should league
with hell;

God's altar grasping with an eager hand.
Fear, the wild-visaged, pale, eye-starting

wretch,

Sure-refuged hears his hot-pursuing fiends Yell at a distance. Soon refreshed from

shame,

This noblest title of the sons of earth;
While, save for this, thy name were scarcely
known,

Except among the mouldering vestiges
Of dim antiquity.
J. L. Chester.

415. CHRISTIANS, Nobility of.
There is a family on earth

Whose Father fills a throne;
But, though a seed of heavenly birth,
To men they're little known.
Whene'er they meet the public eye,
They feel the public scorn;
For men their fairest claims deny,
And count them basely born.
But 'tis the King who reigns above,
Who claims them for His own;
The favored objects of His love,
And destined to a throne.

The honors that belong to them
By men are set at nought:
Whatever shines not they contemn:
Unworthy of a thought!

But ah! how little they reflect!
For mark the unerring word!

"That which with men has most respect,
Is odious to the Lord."

Were honors evident to sense,
Their portion here below,

The world would do them reverence,
And all their claims allow.

But, when the King Himself was here,
His claims were set at nought;
Would they another lot prefer?
Rejected be the thought!

No! they will tread, while here below, The path their Master trod; Content all honor to forego,

But that which comes from God.

And when the King again appears,
He'll vindicate His claim:
Eternal honor shall be theirs;
Their foes be filled with shame.
Thomas Kelly.

416. CHRISTIANS, Portion of.

Rise, my soul! and stretch thy wings,
Thy better portion trace;
Rise from transitory things

Towards heaven, thy native place:
Sun and moon and stars decay;
Time shall soon this earth remove;
Rise, my soul, and haste away
To seats prepared above.
Rivers to the ocean run,

Nor stay in all their course;
Fire, ascending, seeks the sun;
Both speed them to their source:
So a soul that's born of God,
Pants to view His glorious face,
Upward tends to His abode,
To rest in His embrace.

Fly me, riches, fly me, cares,
Whilst I that coast explore;
Flattering world, with all thy snares
Solicit me no more!

Pilgrims fix not here their home;
Strangers tarry but a night;
When the last dear morn is come,
They'll rise to joyful light.

Cease, ye pilgrims, cease to mourn,
Press onward to the prize;
Soon our Saviour will return
Triumphant in the skies:
Yet a season, and you know

Happy entrance will be given
All our sorrows left below,
And earth exchanged for heaven.
Robert Seagrave.

417. CHRISTMAS, Glory of.

A Day, a Day of Glory!

A Day that ends our woe! A Day that tells of triumph Against the vanquished foe! Yield, summer's brightest sunrise, To this December morn: Lift up your gates, ye Princes, And let the Child be born!

With "Glory in the Highest,"
Archangels tell their mirth:
With "Lord, have mercy on us,"
Men answer upon earth:
And Angels swell the triumph,

And mortals raise the horn,
Lift up your gates, ye Princes,
And let the Child be born!

492481

He comes, His throne the manger,
He comes, His shrine the stall;
The ox and ass His courtiers,

Who made and governs all;

The "House of Bread" His birthplace,
The Prince of Wine and Corn;
Lift up your gates, ye Princes,
And let the Child be born!

Then bar the gates, that henceforth
None thus may passage win,
Because the Prince of Israel

Alone hath entered in:
The earth, the sky, the ocean,
His glorious way adorn;
Lift up your gates, ye Princes,
And let the Child be born!
Tr. by J. M. Neale.

418. CHRISTMAS, Hymn for.

Come hither, ye faithful;
Triumphantly sing;
Come, see in the manger
Our Saviour and King!
To Bethlehem hasten,
With joyful accord!
Oh, come ye, come hither,
To worship the Lord!
True Son of the Father,
He comes from the skies;
To be born of a Virgin

He doth not despise.
To Bethlehem hasten, etc.
Hark, hark to the angels!

All singing in heaven :
"To God in the highest

All glory be given!"
To Bethlehem hasten, etc.

To Thee, then, O Jesus!
This day of Thy birth,

Be glory and honor

Through heaven and earth!
True Godhead Incarnate!
Omnipotent Word!

Oh, come, let us hasten
To worship the Lord!

From the Latin.

419. CHRISTMAS, Importance of Who can forget, never to be forgot, The time that all the world in slumber lies, When like the stars the singing angels shot To earth, and heaven awaked all his eyes To see another sun at midnight rise On earth? Was ever sight of equal fame, For God before man like himself did frame, But God Himself now like a mortal man be

came.

The angels carolled loud their songs of peace;
The cursed oracles were stricken dumb;
To see their shepherd, the poor shepherds
press;

To see their King, the kingly sophics

come;

And then, to guide unto his master's home,

A star comes dancing up the orient,
That springs for joy over the strawy tent;
When gold, to make their prince a crown,
they all present. Giles Fletcher.

420. CHRISTMAS, Observance of.

Heap on more wood! the wind is chill;
But let it whistle as it will,

We'll keep our Christmas merry still.
Each age has deemed the new-born year
The fittest time for festal cheer:
Even, heathen yet, the savage Dane
At Iol more deep the mead did drain;
High on the beach his galleys drew,
And feasted all his pirate crew;
Then in his low and pine-built hall,
Where shields and axes decked the wall,
They gorged upon the half-dressed steer;
Caroused in seas of sable beer;
While round, in brutal jest, were thrown
The half-gnawed rib and marrow bone,
Or listened all, in grim delight,

While scalds yelled out the joys of fight.
Then forth in frenzy would they hie,
While wildly loose their red locks fly,
And dancing round the blazing pile
They make such barbarous mirth the while,
As best might to the mind recall
The boisterous joys of Odin's hall.

And well our Christian sires of old
Loved when the year its course had rolled,
And brought blithe Christmas back again,
With all its hospitable train.
Domestic and religious rite

Gave honor to the holy night;

On Christmas eve the bells were rung:
On Christmas eve the mass was sung;
That only night in all the year,
Saw the stoled priest the chalice rear.
The damsel donned her kirtle sheen;
The hall was dressed with holly green;
Forth to the wood did merry-men go,
To gather in the mistletoe.
Then opened wide the baron's hall
To vassal, tenant, serf, and all;
Power laid his rod of rule aside,
And Ceremony doffed his pride;
The heir, with roses in his shoes,
That night might village partner choose;
The lord, underogating, share
All hailed with uncontrolled delight
The vulgar game of "post and pair."
And general voice the happy night
That to the cottage, as the crown,
Brought tidings of salvation down.

The fire, with well-dried logs supplied,
Went roaring up the chimney wide;
The huge hall table's oaken face,
Scrubbed till it shone the day to grace,
Bore then upon its massive board
No mark to part the squire and lord;
Then was brought in the lusty brawn,
By old blue-coated serving-man;
Then the grim boar's head frowned on high,
Crested with bays and rosemary.

Well can the green-garbed ranger tell
How, when, and where the monster fell;
What dogs before his death he tore,
And all the baiting of the boar.
The wassail round, in good brown bowls,
Garnished with ribbons, blithely trowls,
There the huge sirloin reeked; hard by
Plum-porridge stood, and Christmas pie,
Nor failed old Scotland to produce,
At such high tide, her savory goose.
Then came the merry maskers in ;
And carols roared with blithesome din,
If unmelodious was the song,
It was a hearty note and strong.
Who lists may in their mumming see
Traces of ancient mystery;
White shirts supplied the masquerade,
And smutted cheeks the visors made;
But, oh! what maskers, richly dight,
Can boast of bosoms half so light?
England was merry England, when
Old Christmas brought his sports again.
'Twas Christmas broached the mightiest ale!
"Twas Christmas told the merriest tale;
A Christmas gambol oft would cheer
The poor man's heart through half the year.
Sir Walter Scott.

421. CHRISTMAS, Offerings for.
We come not with a costly store,
O Lord! like them of old,
The masters of the starry lore,

From Ophir's shore of gold;
No weepings of the incense-tree
Are with the gifts we bring;
No odorous myrrh of Araby
Blends with our offering.

But faith and love may bring their best,
A spirit keenly tried

By fierce affliction's fiery test,
And seven times purified :
The fragrant graces of the mind,
The virtues that delight

To give their perfume out, will find
Acceptance in Thy sight.

422. CHRISTMAS, Return of

The happy Christmas comes once more,
The heavenly Guest is at the door :
The blessed words the shepherds thrill,
The joyous tidings: Peace, good-willi

To David's city let us fly,

Where angels sing beneath the sky;
Through plain and village pressing near,
And news from God with shepherds hear.

Oh! let us go with quiet mind,

The gentle Babe with shepherds find,
To gaze on Him who gladdens them,
The loveliest Flower of Jesse's stem.

The lowly Saviour meekly lies,
Laid off the splendor of the skies;
No crown bedecks his forehead fair,
No pearl nor gem nor silk is there.

No human glory, might, and gold,
The lovely Infant's form enfold;
The manger and the swaddlings poor
Are His whom angels' songs adore.

O wake our hearts, in gladness sing!
And keep our Christmas with our King,
Till living song, from loving souls,
Like sound of mighty waters rolls.

O holy Child! Thy manger streams
Till earth and heaven glow with its beams.
Till midnight noon's broad light has won,
And Jacob's Star outshines the sun.

Thou Patriarchs' joy, Thou Prophets' song,
Thou heavenly Day-spring, looked for long,
Thou Son of Man, Incarnate Word,
Great David's Son, great David's Lord!

Come, Jesus, glorious, heavenly Guest,
Keep Thine own Christmas in our breast!
Then David's harp-strings, hushed so long,
Shall swell our Jubilee of song.

Tr. from the Danish by Chas. P. Krauth. 423. CHRISTMAS, Song of

It came upon the midnight clear,
That glorious song of old,
From angels bending near the earth
To touch their harps of gold:
"Peace to the earth, good-will to men
From heaven's all-gracious King!"
The world in solemn stillness lay
To hear the angels sing.

Still through the cloven skies they come,
With peaceful wings unfurled;
And still their heavenly music floats
O'er all the weary world:

Above its sad and lowly plains

They bend on heavenly wing, And ever o'er its Babel sounds

The blessed angels sing.

Yet with the woes of sin and strife
The world has suffered long;
Beneath the angel-strain have rolled
Two thousand years of wrong;
And men, at war with men, hear not
The love-song which they bring:
Oh! hush the noise, ye men of strife,
And hear the angels sing!

And ye, beneath life's crushing load
Whose forms are bending low;
Who toil along the climbing way

With painful steps and slow,-
Look now! for glad and golden hours
Come swiftly on the wing;
Oh! rest beside the weary road,

And hear the angels sing.

For lo! the days are hastening on,
By prophet-bards foretold,
When with the ever-circling years
Comes round the age of gold;
When Peace shall over all the earth
Its ancient splendors fling,