Oh! the fireside's peace we well may prize, For blood hath flow'd like rain, Pour'd forth to make sweet sanctuaries Of England's homes again! Heap the yule-faggots high, Till the red light fills the room! It is home's own hour, when the stormy sky Grows thick with evening gloom. Gather ye round the holy hearth, And by its gladdening blaze, Unto thankful bliss we will change our mirth, With a thought of the olden days. HYMN FOR CHRISTMAS. OH! lovely voices of the sky Which hymn'd the Saviour's birth, Are ye not singing still on high, Wherewith, in time gone by, Ye bless'd the Syrian swains, Oh! clear and shining light, whose beams That hour Heaven's glory shed, Around the palms, and o'er the streams, And on the shepherd's head. Be near, through life and death, As in that holiest night Of hope, and joy, and faith— Oh! clear and shining light! Oh! star which led to Him, whose love Brought down man's ransom free— Where art thou ?-'midst the host above, May we still gaze on thee? In heaven thou art not set, Thy rays earth may not dim; Send them to guide us yet, Oh! star which led to Him! CHRIST STILLING THE TEMPEST. "But the ship was now in the midst of the sea, tossed with waves; for the wind was contrary." St. Matthew, xiv. 24. FEAR was within the tossing bark, When stormy winds grew loud; And men stood breathless in their dread, But One was there, who rose and said And the wind ceas'd-it ceas'd!-that word Pass'd through the gloomy sky; The troubled billows knew their Lord, And sank beneath his eye. 108 CHRIST STILLING THE TEMPEST. And slumber settled on the deep, And silence on the blast, As when the righteous falls asleep, Thou that didst rule the angry hour, And tame the tempest's mood Oh! send thy spirit forth in power, Thou that didst bow the billow's pride, Speak, speak to passion's raging tide, Speak and say "Peace, be still!" |