"Ah, dearest Jesus, holy Child, Make Thee a bed, soft, undefiled, Within my heart that it may be, A quiet chamber kept for Thee. "My heart for very joy doth leap, My lips no more can silence keep; I, too, must sing with joyful tongue That sweetest ancient cradle song." --_Martin Luther_ [End illustration] {405} SONG OF THE ANGELS While shepherds watched their flocks by night, All seated on the ground, The angel of the Lord came down; And glory shone around. "Fear not," said he, for mighty dread Had seized their troubled minds; "Glad tidings of great joy I bring To you and all mankind. "To you, in David's town, this day, Is born of David's line, The Saviour, who is Christ the Lord; And this shall be the sign: "The heavenly babe you there shall find To human view displayed, All meanly wrapped in swathing bands And in a manger laid." Thus spoke the seraph, and forthwith Appeared a shining throng Of angels, praising God, and thus Addressed their joyful song: "All glory be to God on high, And to the earth be peace; Good-will henceforth from heaven to men Begin, and never cease." --_Ancient Christmas Song_. {406} CAROL, SWEETLY CAROL Carol, sweetly carol, A Saviour born to-day; Bear the joyful tidings, Oh, bear them far away! Carol, sweetly carol, Till earth's remotest bound Shall hear the mighty chorus, And echo back the sound. CHORUS. Carol, sweetly carol, Carol sweetly to-day; Bear the joyful tidings, Oh, bear them far away. Carol, sweetly carol, As when the angel throng, O'er the vales of Judah, Awoke the heavenly song: Carol, sweetly carol, Good will, and peace, and love, Glory in the highest To God who reigns above. Carol, sweetly carol, The happy Christmas time: Hark! the bells are pealing Their merry, merry chime: Carol, sweetly carol, Ye shining ones above, Sing in loudest numbers, Oh, sing redeeming love! {407} {408} [Illustration] THE COMING OF THE MAGI "'What means this glory round our feet,' The Magi mused, 'more bright than morn?' And voices chanted, clear and sweet, 'To-day the Prince of Peace is born.'" --_James Russell Lowell_ "Lo! star-led chiefs Assyrian odors bring, And bending Magi seek their Infant King." --_Heber_ [End illustration] {409} CRADLE HYMN Away in a manger, no crib for a bed, The little Lord Jesus laid down His head. The stars in the bright sky looked down where He lay-- The little Lord Jesus asleep on the hay.