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Teresa and Other Poems

By James Rhoades
  

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A CHRISTMAS CAROL
  
  
  
  
  
  
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70

A CHRISTMAS CAROL

Eighteen hundred years and moe!
The earth grows old, and the time is long;
But make ye the doors upon wind and snow,
And sing, sweet choir, with the angel-throng!
The Babe in the oxen's stall, I trow,
He savèd of old, and He saveth now:
Ding-ding, ding-dong, with a merry sound,
Let the bells, let the Christmas bells go round!
‘No hymns in our hearing the angels sing;
No sages of eastland come from far;
Yet joy have we of the gifts we bring
Who follow the flight of His guiding-star.’
Oh, let your songs to Him soar like fire,
Sweet Mary's babe, and the world's desire;
Ding-ding, ding-dong, with a merry sound,
As the bells, as the Christmas bells go round!
‘Say, how shall we find Him, so far to seek?
To yon dear manger we may not win.’—
‘He houseth Him still with the poor and meek,
And maketh the mourner His lowly inn:
Who empties his heart as the oxen's stall,
He findeth it filled with the Lord of all:
Ding-ding, ding-dong, let the bells go round,
And sing, sweet choir, for the Christ is found!’
I rede ye worship Him, maids and men;
So bring us all to His bliss. Amen.