Wintry boughs against a wintry sky; Yet the sky is partly blue And the clouds are partly bright. Who can tell but sap is mounting high Out of sight, Ready to burst through? Winter is the mother-nurse of Spring, Lovely for her daughter's sake. Not unlovely for her own; For a future buds in everything Grown or blown Or about to break. EXULTATE DEO. Many a flower hath perfume for its dower, And many a bird a song, And harmless lambs milkwhite beside their dams Frolic along,-- Perfume and song and whiteness offering praise In humble, peaceful ways. Man's high degree hath will and memory, Affection and desire; By loftier ways he mounts of prayer and praise, Fire unto fire, Deep unto deep responsive, height to height, Until he walk in white. A HOPE CAROL. A night was near, a day was near; Between a day and night I heard sweet voices calling clear, Calling me: I heard a whirr of wing on wing, But could not see the sight; I long to see my birds that sing,-- I long to see. Below the stars, beyond the moon, Between the night and day, I heard a rising falling tune Calling me: I long to see the pipes and strings Whereon such minstrels play; I long to see each face that sings,-- I long to see. To-day or may be not to-day, To-night or not to-night; All voices that command or pray, Calling me, Shall kindle in my soul such fire, And in my eyes such light, That I shall see that heart's desire I long to see. CHRISTMAS CAROLS. 1. Whoso hears a chiming for Christmas at the nighest, Hears a sound like Angels chanting in their glee, Hears a sound like palm-boughs waving in the highest, Hears a sound like ripple of a crystal sea. Sweeter than a prayer-bell for a saint in dying, Sweeter than a death-bell for a saint at rest, Music struck in Heaven with earth's faint replying, "Life is good, and death is good, for Christ is Best." 2. A holy, heavenly chime Rings fulness in of time, And on His Mother's breast Our Lord God ever-Blest Is laid a Babe at rest. Stoop, Spirits unused to stoop, Swoop, Angels, flying swoop, Adoring as you gaze, Uplifting hymns of praise,-- "Grace to the Full of Grace!" The cave is cold and strait To hold the angelic state. More strait it is, more cold, To foster and infold Its Maker one hour old. Thrilled through with awestruck love, Meek Angels poised above, To see their God look down. "What, is there never a Crown For Him in swaddled gown?