(This poem may be recited by one pupil, or divided as
    follows:)

  First pupil: 
  Christmas, merry Christmas! 
    Is it really come again? 
  With its memories and greetings,
    With its joys and with its pain
  There’s a minor in the carol,
    And a shadow in the light,
  And a spray of cypress twining
    With the holly wreath to-night. 
  And the hush is never broken
    By laughter, light and low,
  As we listen in the starlight
    To the “bells across the snow.”

  Second pupil: 
  Christmas, merry Christmas! 
    ’Tis not so very long
  Since other voices blended
    With the carol and the song! 
  If we could but hear them singing
    As they are singing now,
  If we could but see the radiance
    Of the crown on each dear brow;
  There would be no sigh to smother,
    No hidden tear to flow,
  As we listen in the starlight
    To the “bells across the snow.”

  Third pupil:
  O Christmas, merry Christmas! 
    This never more can be;
  We cannot bring again the days
    Of our unshadowed glee. 
  But Christmas, happy Christmas,
    Sweet herald of good will,
  With holy songs of glory,
    Brings holy gladness still. 
  For peace and hope may brighten,
    And patient love may glow,
  As we listen in the starlight
    To the “bells across the snow.”

—­F.R.  Havergal.

* * * * *

=Christmas Eve.=

  Outside my window whirls the icy storm,
    And beats upon its panes with fingers white;
  Within, my open fire burns bright and warm,
    And sends throughout the room its ruddy light.

  Low on the hearth my good grimalkin lies,
    His supple, glossy limbs outstretched along;
  Now gently sleeps with softly closed eyes,
    Now, half awakened, purrs his even-song.

  Near to the fire, touched by its gentle heat,
    A silent, welcome friend, my armchair stands. 
  Its cushioned depths invite me to its seat,
    And promise rest for weary head and hands.

  Within its depths mine eyes unheeded close,
    And comes to me a vision wondrous sweet. 
  Such sights and sounds no wakeful hours disclose
    As then my resting, dreaming senses greet.

  I am where gentle shepherds on the plain
    Keep sleepless, faithful watch o’er resting sheep;
  I hear them chant the Psalmist’s sweet refrain,
    That Israel’s God will sure his promise keep.

  Then quick the air is full of heav’nly song,
    And radiant light illumines all the ground,
  While angel voices sweet the strain prolong,
    And angel faces shine in glory round.

  I see the shepherds’ faces pale with fear,
    Then glow with joy and glad surprise, for then
  “Glory to God!” from angel lips they hear,
  And “Peace on earth good will to men.”