Poems (Sharpless)/Christmas—1863
CHRISTMAS—1863
Christmas has come! bring now the cedar wreaths And with them gaudy ribbons gaily twine,To deck the household room, until it show Like a domestic shrine,Where holy love shall make the rites his own.With chosen gifts for each beloved one.
Ages ago, came One, the gift of God, When all the earth was going mad with crime;A sun-ray dropped in darkness, which hath glowed Brighter through lapse of time;So we give gifts, and bid all quarrels ceaseIn memory of the blessed Prince of Peace.
The Prince of Peace! can he have aught to do With us, dipped deeply in fraternal blood?We who deny Him in our lives far more Than ever Jews on rood.For they refined not on their wickednessBy asking Him, e'en while they killed, to bless.
But we, we shield ourselves behind His name To do deeds hateful unto Him above,Linking all hard and selfish thoughts with One Who only teaches love;Denying all the truths, He died to giveWith the loud thunder of the lives we live.
Seeking Him only when our sins grow thick, And we are somewhat faint with fight and loss,Then, blindly staggering with life's weight, we go To lean upon His Cross.For Thou insulted but forgiving GodWe would avert the justice of Thy rod.
How can we bring our children unto Thee When their clear eyes our own short-comings find?And see no signs of Thee thro' all this land, "Where madmen lead the blind;"Where nature is the only ministerTrue to the teachings Thou hast left with her!
Go—take away those merry Christmas wreaths! They are for faithful hearts and peaceful homes;But veil our walls with cypress, while we sit Weeping amid its glooms.Unhappy land! No Christmas joy for thee—Sackcloth and ashes should thy portion be.
Blacker than night, unlit by moon or stars; Sadder than human tongue can ever tell;More hopeless than the doom that bound for aye Satan to Hell;Must be the Fate that Time's unswerving handDeals from his chalice to a Godless land.