CHRISTMAS HYMN It was the calm and silent night! And now was Queen of land and sea! Held undisturb'd their ancient reign, Centuries ago! 'T was in the calm and silent night! His breast with thoughts of boundless sway; What reck'd the Roman what befell A paltry province far away, Within that province far away Went plodding home a weary boor: Told what was going on within ; O strange indifference ! - low and high One that shall thrill the world for ever! Centuries ago! It is the calm and solemn night! A thousand bells ring out, and throw Their joyous peals abroad, and smite The darkness, charm'd and holy now! The night that erst no name had worn, The peaceful Prince of Earth and Heaven, Centuries ago. ALFRED DOMETT. ARISTOCRACY THE pedigree of honey A clover any time to him Is aristocracy. EMILY DICKINSON. ISOLATION YES! in the sea of life enisled, With echoing straits between us thrown, We mortal millions live alone. But when the moon their hollows lights, Oh! then a longing like despair Now round us spreads the watery plain - Who order'd, that their longing's fire MATTHEW ARNOLD. THE VILLAGE BLACKSMITH UNDER a spreading chestnut-tree His hair is crisp, and black, and long, His face is like the tan; His brow is wet with honest sweat, He earns whate'er he can, And looks the whole world in the face, Week in, week out, from morn till night, Like a sexton ringing the village bell, And children coming home from school They love to see the flaming forge, And hear the bellows roar, And catch the burning sparks that fly He goes on Sunday to the church, He hears the parson pray and preach, Singing in the village choir, And it makes his heart rejoice. It sounds to him like her mother's voice, He needs must think of her once more, And with his hard, rough hand he wipes Toiling, rejoicing, sorrowing, Each morning sees some task begin, Thanks, thanks to thee, my worthy friend, HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. MORALITY WE cannot kindle when we will The fire which in the heart resides; The spirit bloweth and is still, With aching hands and bleeding feet Of the long day, and wish 't were done. All we have built do we discern. MATTHEW ARNOLD. BRAHMA Ir the red slayer think he slays, Far or forgot to me is near; Shadow and sunlight are the same; They reckon ill who leave me out ; And I the hymn the Brahmin sings. The strong gods pine for my abode, RALPH WALDO EMERSON. HEREDITY WHY bowest thou, O soul of mine, That bids thee victory win. The tainted past may bring forth flowers, As blossomed Aaron's rod; No legacy of sin annuls Heredity from God. LYDIA AVERY COONLEY WARD. THE CELESTIAL SURGEON IF I have faltered more or less ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON THE STARRY HOST THE Countless stars, which to our human eye First hurled them forth to spin in tireless dance? JOHN LANCASTER SPALDING. |