4 Christ is born, the great Anointed;
Heaven and earth his glory sing;
Glad receive whom God appointed,
For your Prophet, Priest, and King.
Hallelujah.
5 Let us learn the wondrous story
Of our great Redeemer's birth;
Spread the brightness of his glory,
Till it cover all the earth,
1 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.
2 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 hovering wing,
And ever o'er its Babel sounds
The blesséd angels sing.
3 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 man, at war with man, hears not
The love-song which they bring :
O hush the noise, ye men of strife,
And hear the angels sing.
4 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:
O rest beside the weary road,
And hear the angels sing.
5 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 splendours fling,
And the whole world give back the song
Which now the angels sing.
Edmund Hamilton Sears. 1850.
"Watchman, what of the night?"
1 WATCHMAN, tell us of the night,
What its signs of promise are?
Traveller, o'er yon mountain's height
See that glory-beaming star.
Watchman, does its beauteous ray
Aught of hope or joy foretell?
Traveller, yes, it brings the day,-
Promised day of Israel.
2 Watchman, tell us of the night;
Higher yet that star ascends:
Traveller, blessedness and light,
Peace and truth, its course portends.
Watchman, will it beam alone
On the spot that gave it birth?
Traveller, ages are its own;
See, it bursts o'er all the earth.
3 Watchman, tell us of the night,
For the morning seems to dawn:
Traveller, darkness takes its flight,
Doubt and terror are withdrawn.
Watchman, let thy wandering cease,
Hie thee to thy quiet home:
Traveller, lo, the Prince of Peace,
Lo, the Son of God is come.
Sir John Bowring. 1825.
1 EARLY Christ rose, ere dawn of day,
And to a desert place withdrew;
There was he wont to watch and pray,
Until his locks were wet with dew,
And birds below, and beams above,
Had warned him thence to works of love.
2 At evening, when his toils were o'er,
He sent the multitudes away,
And on the mountain or the shore,
All night remained to watch and pray,
Till o'er his head the stars grew dim,
When was the hour of rest for him?
3 In field or city, while he taught,
Oft went his spirit forth in sighs;
And when his mightiest deeds were wrought,
To heaven he lifted up his eyes;
He prayed at Lazarus' grave, and shed
Tears with the word that waked the dead.
4 When mothers brought their babes, he took
The lambs into his arms, and prayed;
On Tabor, his transfigured look,
While praying, turned the sun to shade,
And forms, too pure for human sight,
Grew visible amidst that light.
1 O FATHER, save me from this hour,
Yet for this hour to earth I came,'
He prayed in weakness; then with power
Cried, Father, glorify thy name.
I have,' a voice from heaven replied,
'And still it shall be glorified.'
2 Next, with strong cries and bitter tears,
Thrice hallowed he that doleful ground,
Where, trembling with mysterious fears,
His sweat, like blood-drops, fell around,
And, being in an agony,
He prayed yet more earnestly.
3 Stretched on the ignominious tree,
For those whose hands had nailed him there, Who stood and mocked his misery,
He offered up his latest prayer;
Then with the voice of victory cried,
"Tis finished,'-bowed his head and died.
4 Now by the throne of God he stands,
Aloft the golden censer bears,
And offers, with high-priestly hands,
Pure incense with his people's prayers;
Well pleased the Father eyes the Son,
And says to each request,-'Tis done.
1 JESUS, while he dwelt below,
As divine historians say,
To a place would often go,
Near to Kedron's brook it lay;
In this place he loved to be,
And 'twas named Gethsemane.
2 Full of love to man's lost race,
On his conflict much he thought;
This he knew the destined place;
And he loved the sacred spot.
Therefore 'twas he liked to be
Often in Gethsemane.
3 Came at length the dreadful night,-
Vengeance, with its iron rod,
Stood, and with collected might
Bruised the harmless Lamb of God.
See, my soul, thy Saviour see
Prostrate in Gethsemane.
4 View him in that olive press,
Wrung with anguish, whelmed in blood;
Hear him pray, in his distress,
With strong cries and tears to God.
Then reflect what sin must be,
Gazing on Gethsemane.
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