Poems (Curwen)/Christmastide

by Annie Isabel Curwen

Christmastide.

"Hark! the herald angels sing,
Glory to the new-born King."

The herald angels sing anew
 The sweet familiar strain
The wondering shepherds first did hear
 At night on Bethlehem's plain.
As sweetly now to us they sing,
"Peace and goodwill to men we bring."

The Christmas bells ring out again
 A merry joyous peal;
And as we listen to their chime
 The hardest hearted feel
The holy influence of the hour—
The Christ-child's wond'rous softening power.

And for a space the hearts of all
 Beat kindlier and truer;
We feel more pitiful towards
 The erring, weak, and poor.
Mankind grows tender and humane
When Christ, the Infant King, doth reign.

Old Father Christmas re-appears
 With happy, genial smile;
And while the children dance about,
 Just for a little while
We elders lay aside our cares
And laugh with hearts as light as theirs.

We waft our prayers and wishes to
 Our countrymen, where'er they be,
Our soldiers under burning skies,
 Our sailors scattered o'er the sea,—
For heart meets heart at Christmastide,
Though leagues of land and sea divide.

But the sorrows of the suffering poor,
 The burden of the people's wrongs,
Oppress our hearts this Christmastide,
 Shadowing joy, and saddening songs.
O, Prince of Peace! with us abide,
And bless for each their Christmastide.