From heaven above I come to you, To bring a story good and new: Of goodly news so much I bring-- I cannot help it, I must sing. To you a child is come this morn, A child of holy maiden born; A little babe, so sweet and mild-- It is a joy to see the child! 'Tis little Jesus, whom we need Us out of sadness all to lead: He will himself our Saviour be, And from all sinning set us free. Here come the shepherds, whom we know; Let all of us right gladsome go, To see what God to us hath given-- A gift that makes a stable heaven. Take heed, my heart. Be lowly. So Thou seest him lie in manger low: That is the baby sweet and mild; That is the little Jesus-child. Ah, Lord! the maker of us all! How hast thou grown so poor and small, That there thou liest on withered grass-- The supper of the ox and ass? Were the world wider many-fold, And decked with gems and cloth of gold, 'Twere far too mean and narrow all, To make for Thee a cradle small. Rough hay, and linen not too fine, The silk and velvet that are thine; Yet, as they were thy kingdom great, Thou liest in them in royal state. And this, all this, hath pleased Thee, That Thou mightst bring this truth to me: That all earth's good, in one combined, Is nothing to Thy mighty mind. Ah, little Jesus! lay thy head Down in a soft, white, little bed, That waits Thee in this heart of mine, And then this heart is always Thine. Such gladness in my heart would make Me dance and sing for Thy sweet sake. Glory to God in highest heaven, For He his son to us hath given! Chapter IV. The new doctor. Next forenoon, wishing to have a little private talk with my friend, I went to his room, and found him busy writing to Dr. Wade. He consulted me on the contents of the letter, and I was heartily pleased with the kind way in which he communicated to the old gentleman the resolution he had come to, of trying whether another medical man might not be more fortunate in his attempt to treat the illness of his daughter. "I fear Dr. Wade will be offended, say what I like," said he. "It is quite possible to be too much afraid of giving offence," I said; "But nothing can be more gentle and friendly than the way in which you have communicated the necessity." "Well, it is a great comfort you think so. Will you go with me to call on Mr. Armstrong?" "With much pleasure," I answered; and we set out at once.