A CHRISTMAS CAROL.

N the bleak mid-winter

IN

Frosty wind made moan,

Earth stood hard as iron,

Water like a stone;

Snow had fallen, snow on snow,

Snow on snow,

In the bleak mid-winter

Long ago.

Our God, Heaven cannot hold Him

Nor earth sustain ;

Heaven and earth shall flee away

When He comes to reign:

In the bleak mid-winter

A stable-place sufficed

The Lord God Almighty

Jesus Christ.

Enough for Him whom cherubim
Worship night and day,

A breastful of milk

And a mangerful of hay; Enough for Him whom angels

Fall down before,

The ox and ass and camel

Which adore.

Angels and archangels

May have gathered there, Cherubim and seraphim Throng'd the air, But only His mother

In her maiden bliss Worshipped her Beloved With a kiss.

What can I give Him,
Poor as I am?

If I were a shepherd

I would bring a lamb,

If I were a wise man

I would do my part,— Yet what I can I give Hım, Give my heart.

BY THE WATERS OF BABYLON.

B.C. 570.

HERE, where I dwell, I waste to skin and bone;

The curse is come upon me, and I waste

In penal torment powerless to atone.

The curse is come on me, which makes no haste
And doth not tarry, crushing both the proud
Hard man and him the sinner double-faced.
Look not upon me, for my soul is bowed
Within me, as my body in this mire ;

My soul crawls dumb-struck, sore bestead and cowed.
As Sodom and Gomorrah scourged by fire,
As Jericho before God's trumpet-peal,
So we the elect ones perish in His ire.
Vainly we gird on sackcloth, vainly kneel
With famished faces toward Jerusalem :
His heart is shut against us not to feel,
His ears against our cry He shutteth them,
His hand He shorteneth that He will not save,
His law is loud against us to condemn :
And we, as unclean bodies in the grave
Inheriting corruption and the dark,

Are outcast from His presence which we crave.
Our Mercy hath departed from His Ark,
Our Glory hath departed from His rest,
Our Shield hath left us naked as a mark

Unto all pitiless eyes made manifest.

Our very Father hath forsaken us,

Our God hath cast us from Him: we oppress'd Unto our foes are even marvellous,

A hissing and a butt for pointing hands, Whilst God Almighty hunts and grinds us thus ; For He hath scattered us in alien lands,

Our priests, our princes, our anointed king, And bound us hand and foot with brazen bands. Here while I sit, my painful heart takes wing Home to the home-land I may see no more, Where milk and honey flow, where waters spring And fail not, where I dwelt in days of yore Under my fig-tree and my fruitful vine, There where my parents dwelt at ease before: Now strangers press the olives that are mine, Reap all the corners of my harvest-field, And make their fat hearts wanton with my wine; To them my trees, to them my gardens yield

Their sweets and spices and their tender green, O'er them in noontide heat outspread their shield. Yet these are they whose fathers had not been

Housed with my dogs; whom hip and thigh we smote And with their blood washed their pollutions clean, Purging the land which spewed them from its throat; Their daughters took we for a pleasant prey, Choice tender ones on whom the fathers dote: Now they in turn have led our own away; Our daughters and our sisters and our wives Sore weeping as they weep who curse the day,

To live, remote from help, dishonoured lives,
Soothing their drunken masters with a song,
Or dancing in their golden tinkling gyves-
Accurst if they remember through the long
Estrangement of their exile, twice accursed
If they forget and join the accursed throng.
How doth my heart that is so wrung not burst
When I remember that my way was plain,
And that God's candle lit me at the first,
Whilst now I grope in darkness, grope in vain,
Desiring but to find Him Who is lost,
To find him once again, but once again!
His wrath came on us to the uttermost,

His covenanted and most righteous wrath.
Yet this is He of Whom we made our boast,
Who lit the Fiery Pillar in our path,

Who swept the Red Sea dry before our feet,
Who in His jealousy smote kings, and hath
Sworn once to David: One shall fill thy seat
Born of thy body, as the sun and moon
'Stablished for aye in sovereignty complete.
O Lord, remember David, and that soon.
The Glory hath departed, Ichabod !

Yet now, before our sun grow dark at noon,
Before we come to nought beneath Thy rod,
Before we go down quick into the pit,
Remember us for good, O God, our God:
Thy Name will I remember, praising it,

Though Thou forget me, though Thou hide Thy

face,