Of death. When every heart Was hushed, and sure to start At slightest move or sound, From sky or earth or ground, We would not break with song The silence, which so strong Had reigned supreme the while, But sought we to beguile With word of prophecy the hour, Talking of Him whose conquering power Our fallen Israel should restore, And make her glory as of yore. The Lord seemed wondrous near us then; As when our father Jacob dreamed, or when The great law-giver stood on hallowed ground And heard Jehovah speak in words profound; When, suddenly, burst on the ravished ear A voice like music, or like trumpet clear, And words most wonderful did there proclaim: Tidings, glad tidings of the glorious Name! He bade us haste to Bethlehem away To find the Babe there born to us this day; And then, when Paradise I see complete, May it such strains to these glad ears repeat! Then as from cloud the pealing thunder breaks Till ’neath its voice the very mountain shakes, So burst in chorus the celestial choir, Each tongue aflame with heaven’s own altar fire, To celebrate, as by Jehovah sent, The long foretold and now fulfilled event— Our own Messiah’s birth in Bethlehem town! The Christ of God from heaven to earth come down! The singing ceased, and all was still again Save the sweet echo of “Good-will to men”; The choir had flown; our flocks were all at rest, And could we, after such a vision blest, Await the dawning to behold the Stranger Which cradled lay in Bethlehem’s lowly manger? If we forgot our flocks, in haste to see the sight Revealed to us by angel hosts last night, Was it so strange, when honored thus were we To be the first of all our race to see, Worship and welcome to this world the King Of whom the Prophets old did write and sing? And so we hastened, sped, and tarried not Until we found, O, joy! the very spot Where lay this lily from sweet Paradise, Angelic beauty there, before our eyes! We bent, we worshiped, kissed the Babe so fair, Then hastened back through all the perfumed air To find our flocks by angel guards attended, Better by them than by our skill defended. Then each with gladness homeward sped away To tell the tidings of this wondrous day. The questions asked as round the father’s knee The children pressed in eager ecstasy, I will not try to tell. I cease My story of the “Prince of Peace,” This only adding—though the talk was long— There followed it this burst of sacred song: (_The song._) O, thou Infant holy! In thy cradle lowly, Feeble stranger seeming, Though almighty. Deeming It thy pleasure, Even in this measure, In this casket fair Human woe to share.