The Anniversaries Poems in Commemoration of Great Men and Great Events. By Thomas H. Gill |
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December 25.
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 | The Anniversaries |  |
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December 25.
CHRISTMAS DAY.
O Winter dark and bare!
Who giveth thee to wear
Rich raiment that beseemeth Summer bright?
O pale abhorrëd Guest!
What makes thy coming blest?
O charmless one! how bringest thou delight?
What maketh thy dull eye to shine,
And o'er thy face forlorn spreads a sweet smile divine?
Who giveth thee to wear
Rich raiment that beseemeth Summer bright?
O pale abhorrëd Guest!
What makes thy coming blest?
O charmless one! how bringest thou delight?
What maketh thy dull eye to shine,
And o'er thy face forlorn spreads a sweet smile divine?
O Winter stern and grim!
Why glows Earth's gladdest hymn
Amidst the keenness of thine icy blast?
Why ringeth Man's best cheer
Full on thy silence drear?
Why stream his smiles as thy snow falleth fast?
In Earth's dead hour, o'er Nature's tomb,
Why breaketh forth the heart into full Summer bloom?
Why glows Earth's gladdest hymn
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Why ringeth Man's best cheer
Full on thy silence drear?
Why stream his smiles as thy snow falleth fast?
In Earth's dead hour, o'er Nature's tomb,
Why breaketh forth the heart into full Summer bloom?
O Lord of Glory bright!
From thy descending light
The gloom of Winter learneth this strange glow:
O Heavenly Lover dear!
O Bringer of all cheer!
Thou makest golden while of Nature's woe;
Pale Winter suns his face forlorn
In the full majesty of this thrice-blessed morn.
From thy descending light
The gloom of Winter learneth this strange glow:
O Heavenly Lover dear!
O Bringer of all cheer!
Thou makest golden while of Nature's woe;
Pale Winter suns his face forlorn
In the full majesty of this thrice-blessed morn.
Not on sweet vernal flowers,
Not on bright Summer hours
More bloom, more beauty doth thy birthday shed.
Thy full-orbed brightness streameth
When the sun faintly beameth;
Thou bringest bloom when flowers are witherëd;
Thou mak'st the songless air to thrill,
Thy gladsome bells ring forth when every bird is still.
Not on bright Summer hours
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Thy full-orbed brightness streameth
When the sun faintly beameth;
Thou bringest bloom when flowers are witherëd;
Thou mak'st the songless air to thrill,
Thy gladsome bells ring forth when every bird is still.
Thou who our flesh didst take,
Thou who our chains didst break,
Thou who our tears didst weep, our death didst die!
Thou who didst bear our sin,
Thou who our Heaven didst win,
Thou who dost keep those mansions fair on high!
Thou who the Vale of Tears didst bless,
Thou who wouldst robe our souls in thine own holiness;
Thou who our chains didst break,
Thou who our tears didst weep, our death didst die!
Thou who didst bear our sin,
Thou who our Heaven didst win,
Thou who dost keep those mansions fair on high!
Thou who the Vale of Tears didst bless,
Thou who wouldst robe our souls in thine own holiness;
Thou bringest Winter bare
Bright Summer's golden hair,
Thou teachest his grim face a smile divine;
In Thee our mirth is sweet;
Beneath Thy Mercy Seat
We build a Bower of Bliss and call it Thine;
What joy may fill our hearts, nor swell
Into a soaring song for our Emmanuel?
Bright Summer's golden hair,
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In Thee our mirth is sweet;
Beneath Thy Mercy Seat
We build a Bower of Bliss and call it Thine;
What joy may fill our hearts, nor swell
Into a soaring song for our Emmanuel?
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