WHERE are all the flowers now?
Hid beneath the cold white snow,
They are all asleep;
With the Spring come sunny showers,
Calling to the sleeping flowers,
From their beds to peep.
First, the pretty snow-drop wakes,
From her leaf the snow-drift shakes,
And her bell unfolds;
Primrose next and violet,
Daisy white, the children's pet,
With its star of gold.
"For unto you is born, this day, in the city of David, a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord."
WHEN the day was scarce begun,
Hardly ris'n the Winter sun,
All men quietly asleep,
Save the shepherds with their sheep,
Angels came from heaven to say,
Christ the Lord was born to-day,
Peace on earth, good will to men,
God and they are friends again.
Now the merry sounding chimes
Waken us from sleep betimes,
Giving us a cheerful warning
To be glad on Christmas morning;
Angels sing no more on earth
Songs about the Saviour's birth,
Children you may come and sing
Hymns of love to Christ the King.
Hearkening to the heav'nly word
Shepherds went to seek their Lord,
Found him, as the angels said,
Cradled in a manger bed.
Sages saw the star appear
Pointing out the way so clear;
Many a mighty eastern king
Hastened then his gifts to bring.
If we listen, we shall hear
Heavenly biddings ever near,
Clearer than the guiding star
Lit the wise men from afar;
By the Bible's light we see
Jesus Christ's humility,
How he stooped to childhood even,
Shewing us the way to Heaven.
STILL wand'ring in the wood, my child?
The night is coming dark and wild
Upon the closing day;
Thy cottage home is distant far,
And there is neither moon nor star
To guide thee on thy way.
"My father said that I should find,
(Though haply it might turn and wind,)
The pathway through the glade.
Dear father ne'er deceived me yet,
His words are true, though God should let
The light of heaven fade."
Are they not shoes thou holdest there?
Thy little feet are soft and bare,
The path is rough and hard.
My child, why shouldst thou suffer pain?
I pray thee, wear thy shoes again,
Those tender feet to guard.
"My father labours day by day,
To feed and clothe us well alway,
And give us what we need;
So I must keep my shoes with care,
And though my feet are soft and bare,
The stones I do not heed.”
How sultry is the evening air!
Hast thou not gathered here and there
A store of berries sweet?
Thine eyes are dim, thy lips are hot,
Then tell me, child, why dost thou not
The cool, ripe berries eat?
"My sister is at home to-day,
To rock the baby she must stay,
Nor come into the wood;
For her I plucked the berries sweet,
And that is why I do not eat—
To cheat her were not good.
There are enough-no need to spare, Thou wilt not take thy sisters share ; To eat some were but wise:
For say, my child, dost thou not fear A cruel man might meet thee here,
And rob thee of thy prize?
"Ah, no! I have not any fear;
I know the angels still are near,
To shield each little child.
They stand with shining wings of light,
And guard us both by day and night,
At home or in the wild."
Thank God, that so 'twill ever be,
Thou child of love and purity
Hast angels ever nigh.
With love they watch each opening flower, And with a kiss will bless the hour,
When it must fade and die.
What we but strive to gain in part,
Blooms quietly within thy heart,
A pure and holy wreath.
All, all, that we so sorely need,
Dost thou, dear child, possess indeed-
Obedience, love, and faith.
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