The priest hath joined their willing hands; The day grows bright--the wind blows free-- As thro’ the woods, they go to seek Their sunlit castle by the sea. O Ragnal of the Golden Hair! The Lord hath gracious dealt with thee! Christmas Carol. I. O holy Night! O starry Night, That ushers in Salvation’s morn! O blessed Eve of rare delight, Whereon the Christ was born! Thine angels flood the hills with song, And rouse the shepherds from their sleep; While past’ral pipes the lay prolong, Around the Stable door, they throng With votive lambs and sheep. Sing _Gloria_, sing _Gloria_ _In excelsis Deo!_ II. O solemn Night! O lustrous Night, That fills the earth with brightest Day! The Wise Men come in robes of white From kingdoms far away. [Illustration: _This Babe--the Virgin’s sinless Boy-- Shall sin and hell and death destroy, And heaven’s portals ope!_ (_See page 25._) ] What time their weary journey ends, They haste to worship Judah’s King; In jewel’d zones and bazubends Behold the three Chaldean friends, Gold, myrrh, and incense bring! Sing _Gloria_, sing _Gloria_ _In excelsis Deo!_ III. O radiant Night! O Night of nights! Thy bells ring sweet from Paradise; Thine orient Star, eternal, lights The Crib where Jesus lies! Wealth of the poor, the mourner’s joy, The sinner’s shield, the captive’s hope, This Babe--the Virgin’s sinless Boy-- Shall sin and hell and death destroy, And heaven’s portals ope! Sing _Gloria_, sing _Gloria_ _In excelsis Deo!_ At Dame Noël’s. AN OLD-WORLD TRADITION. The clock strikes Twelve! ’Tis Christmas Eve At old Dame Noël’s farm; Beyond the house, with holly wreathed, The barn in mistletoe is sheathed. (God save us from all harm!) [Illustration] The red cock to the manger springs, And shrills its Christmas prayer; Three times, it flaps its shining wings, Then, “_Christus--natus--est!_”--it sings. --The ox roars “_Ubi?_--Where?” [Illustration] But, soft thro’ swaths of sun-dried grass, It hears the lamb below, From out the shimmering, scented mass, Bleat: “_Beth’lem! Beth’lem!_”--Brays the ass: “_Eamus!_--Let us go!” [Illustration] And ’round about the hive (whose zone Shall summer sweets embalm), The bees go floating as they drone, Go floating, as they thus intone Their honeyed, midnight psalm: [Illustration] “_Let all Creation praise the Lord, Who comes to men this Christmas morn: The Son of God, th’ Incarnate Word, In Bethlehem of Mary born!_ [Illustration] “_Good ox, good ass, your brothers wait This hour beside His Crib--A sign There, too, is thine, meek lamb; thy Mate Is Blessed Mary’s Lamb divine!_ [Illustration]