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VOL. VIII.

Christmas Carols.

BY F. S. B.

I.

FEARFULLY, timidly,

Now do we raise
Our voices to bless Thee,
To thank Thee, and praise.
This, our poor carol,

Uncertain with fear,
'Mid chants of Thine angels,
Listen and hear.

We plead for the fallen,
Thy mercy we seek
For those who have left Thee
Faint-hearted and weak.
O give us more patience,
More hope, and more faith,
To hold fast Thy promise
Through sorrow and death.

By Thy blessed descending,
Thy glorious birth,

Thy sufferings and sorrows,
Thy life upon earth;
By Thy parting words spoken,
Thy last awful sigh,
By Thy bright resurrection,

Thy dwelling on high;

We pray Thee to hear us,
To pardon and save,
And for our soul's cleansing
To trouble the wave.
Thy Church is in sorrow,
In danger, and fear-
O stretch forth Thy hand,
For the breakers are near.

But a small band of brothers,
All bound by one vow,
CHRIST'S Soldiers and servants,
To cling closer now,
To stand all the firmer
For danger and loss,
By the seal of adoption,
The sign of the Cross,

BB

Once more send the message
The shepherds heard then-
Be peace on the earth,

And goodwill unto men.
May new star shine o'er us,
A new life begin,
A new era dawning
From sorrow and sin.

We trust to Thy mercy,
In Thee, Thee alone,
Poor sinful, weak, erring,
No power of our own.
We ever confide in

The wonderful love
That brought Thee to suffer

From kingdoms above.

We bless Thee, we praise Thee,

We glorify Thee,

The great, the eternal,

The glorious Three;

While Thine angels are waiting

The night of Thy birth,

O hear our weak praises,
The voices of earth.

II.

CHRISTIANS all, your joyful voices
Now with holy triumph raise,
Wondrous tide of our salvation,
Sing we now our SAVIOUR'S praise.
He so pure, so great and holy,
Left His Majesty on high,
Left His FATHER'S glorious kingdom
For the sins of man to die.
Lift your voices, far and wide,

CHRIST was born at Christmas tide,

Bless and hail His Holy Birth,

Peace to men, goodwill on earth.

Deck His holy House with ivy,
Holly, mistletoe and bay,
Though they be but humble service,
He doth judge the heart alway.
Smallest hands may do Him service,
Weakest voice His praise may sing,
More a poor child's simple flowers,
Than the jewels of a king.

Lift your voices far and wide,
CHRIST was born at Christmas tide,
Bless and hail His Holy Birth,
Peace to men, goodwill on earth.

He was cradled in a manger,
In a humble cattle shed;
And the King of earth and heaven,
Scarce had where to lay His Head.
SAVIOUR of the meek and lowly,
Of the contrite broken heart,
Not earth's great ones in Thy kingdom,
Have the first and surest part.
Lift your voices far and wide,
CHRIST was born at Christmas tide,

Bless and hail His Holy Birth,

Peace to men, goodwill on earth.

Thou dost call the poor in spirit
To Thy heritage above,
And Thy poor despised children,
First and foremost in Thy love.
Come, ye poor, and weak and feeble,
Hear the sweet bells' merry chime,
Raise to heaven your hearts and voices,
CHRIST was born upon this time.
Lift your voices far and wide,
CHRIST was born at Christmas tide,
Bless and hail His Holy Birth,
Peace to men, goodwill on earth.

III.

THOUGH but little children,
Poor and weak are we,

Yet this holy season

Not unmarked shall be.

And our Christmas carol
We will gladly raise;
To our heavenly FATHER
Giving thanks and praise.

"Suffer little children,"

Did our SAVIOUR say;
From our small endeavour
He'll not turn away.
For He looks upon us
With His loving grace,
And our angels always

See in heaven His face.

He was like unto us,

But a feeble child,

With our griefs and sorrows,
He, too, wept or smiled.
'Mid the lowing oxen

Was the SAVIOUR born,
Many hundred years ago,
On this blessed morn.

And He suffered for us
Grief and pain and loss,
Till at last they nailed Him
On the awful Cross.
But to heaven ascended,
Now He dwells on high,
Till He comes to judge us
In His Majesty.

Honour, praise and glory,
To our heavenly King,
Now, and still for ever,

All mankind shall sing.

We will raise our carol,

As we gladly say,

JESUS CHRIST our SAVIOUR,

He was born to-day.

THE VOICE OF APPEAL.

'MID the dreary sounds of autumn, the dull swinging of the trees,
Like the roar of breakers dashing, and the sighing of the breeze;
In the dim and misty twilight that ekes out the failing year,
Far above these blended noises, came a voice upon mine ear;
Nay, I know not whence it came from, if the undefined and dark,
That in shadow lay beyond me, or the dull fire's half-quenched spark,
If it came upon the cold winds, or it rode the stormy cloud;
But I heard the dear sweet accents, so distinct, yet never loud.
"Nay, my children, erring children are ye, traitors, and no less?
Do ye come to do me reverence,-do ye kneel that I may bless?—
Are ye come in lowly duty,-high and low, and rich and poor?
Have ye sought me, and not found me-have I ever closed my door?
Nay, my children, look upon me, I am not as I have been,
Throned in undoubted honour, robed, and sceptred like a queen;
Heavy fetters are upon me, and for a radiant crown
The thorns are pressing sorely on the brow to dust cast down.
Can I help you-me, you fettered-tied me down with iron bands?
Is not shame upon your faces, that ye seek help at my hands?
All my laws ye mocked and scorned at, all my precepts disobeyed;
Are ye come to ask assistance from the ruin ye have made?
Ye have cavilled at my canons, at my discipline, and rule;
Have ye weary grown already of your self-created school?
Your vast liberty of conscience, your free judgment of the soul-
Are ye tired of these already?-though for them my wise control
Ye exchanged with such irreverence-'mere idle rite and form!'"
Surely they who sow the whirlwind, shall reap tempest, fire and storm;

I have watched you, I have nursed you, from the infant at my breast;
Cleansed in my sparkling waters, through this weary life's unrest;-
I have led you to my altars, to repeat the vow and prayer;
And then fed you with the precious food of life eternal there:

I have blessed your marriage vowing, all your sickness and your health,
In the hour of tribulation, in your poverty and wealth;

I have ever been with you, from the cradle to the grave,

A steady refuge from the storm, and oil upon the wave.

And when that life was over, and they laid you down to sleep,

I have spoken of your rising from that slumber calm and deep;

I have blessed you, and then trusted you, until that awful day,
When the archangel's trump shall sound, and earth shall pass away.
Ye have set up earthly idols,-pride of judgment, intellect,-
And like reeds are ye divided into party, band, and sect.
Are ye better, think ye, wiser than idolaters of old,
When they knelt in willing worship before the calf of gold?
Nay, alas! the sinful leaven has descended to your day,
Now ye bow before a thing of dust, a creature of the clay !
The holy Liturgy ye use with idle lips-intent

But on the world, and worldly things on which your hearts are bent;
The blessed Sacrament ye take, how oft with sinful hand,
Scarce thankful for the precious gift so plenteous in the land!
The early martyrs pined for these, and died for loving well,

Sealed with their blood their glorious faith, as old traditions tell.
Ye use the prayer of the baptized, and scarce its meaning know,
Yet may its need be taught to you in many a bitter woe.
Ye deck your gaudy palaces with gilded art full well;

Yet whitewashed walls are good enough of God's great works to tell,
Who gave the smiling earth its bloom, and taught the sun to shine-
O man! He did not limit thee, what sin and shame are thine!
The holy bells that toll to Church disturb the world, and they
Must needs be hushed, for fear that men should be induced to pray
O earthly minds! by sordid ties bowed down to earth so strong,
How could ye bear in Paradise the angels' ceaseless song?
If the Church-bell tolls too often for your pleasure and your gain,
Heaven holds no bliss for such as you-your hope will be in vain!
Your small children from the cradle hear you argue day by day,
Taking up your own opinions,-twisting all things your own way,
Look, that they turn not on you, your own weapon to your breast,
"We've a right to our opinion, we will do as we think best."
Can ye,-dare ye,-tell them then, of one forgotten now so long,
His authority, and yours; and can ye make your ruling strong?
Ye have set up your wise proverbs,-toleration, charity;
Pity that ye did not eke it out, by giving plenteously;
But ye feast at your rich tables, clad in purple, and in state;
O Dives! is not Lazarus still a beggar at your gate?
"There are many ways to heaven, but all lead there at last!"
"If so I am sure to stumble on one, wherefore should I haste?"
Is the natural conclusion that the sinful mind will draw.

Is this the teaching left you-is this the gospel law?
Which is safer, tell, I pray you, much or little love to show?

Too much zeal shall be excused, utter lack shall bring you woe.

And now Rome's daring pontiff lays a domineering hand,

On your hearths, and on your altars, throughout the whole wide land;
Now ye cry in desolation-ah, my children, why to me?

Me ye fettered, I am helpless, from their toils to set you free.
Where are the first great Churches the Apostles' hands did raise?
There are but the names to tell us of the glories of those days;

If they fell, the first and earliest, surely ye may tremble too;
Why should greater grace than they had be reserved so long for you?
All your sophistries and pleadings serve you well on earth with men ;
But when at the judgment seat of CHRIST, how will ye speak them then?
In the Triune Name I charge you, if ye hope for pardon yet;

Be your lights trimmed far more brightly, be your watchers doubly set;

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