 | Specimens of American poetry |  |
114
HYMN FOR CHRISTMAS.
In hymns of praise, eternal God!
When thy creating hand
Stretch'd the blue arch of heaven abroad,
And meted sea and land,
The morning stars together sung,
And shouts of joy from angels rung.
When thy creating hand
Stretch'd the blue arch of heaven abroad,
And meted sea and land,
The morning stars together sung,
And shouts of joy from angels rung.
Than Earth's prime hour, more joyous far
Was the eventful morn,
When the bright beam of Bethlehem's star
Announced a Saviour born!
Then sweeter strains from heaven began—
“Glory to God—good will to man.”
Was the eventful morn,
When the bright beam of Bethlehem's star
Announced a Saviour born!
Then sweeter strains from heaven began—
“Glory to God—good will to man.”
Babe of the manger! can it be?
Art thou the Son of God?
Shall subject nations bow the knee,
And kings obey thy nod?
Shall thrones and monarchs prostrate fall
Before the tenant of a stall?
Art thou the Son of God?
Shall subject nations bow the knee,
And kings obey thy nod?
Shall thrones and monarchs prostrate fall
Before the tenant of a stall?
'T is He! the hymning seraphs cry,
While hovering, drawn to earth;
'T is he! the shepherds' songs reply,
Hail! hail Emmanuel's birth!
The rod of peace those hands shall bear,
That brow a crown of glory wear!
While hovering, drawn to earth;
'T is he! the shepherds' songs reply,
Hail! hail Emmanuel's birth!
The rod of peace those hands shall bear,
That brow a crown of glory wear!
'T is He! the eastern sages sing,
And spread their golden hoard;
'T is He! the hills of Sion ring,
Hosanna to the Lord!
The Prince of long prophetic years
To day in Bethlehem appears!
And spread their golden hoard;
'T is He! the hills of Sion ring,
Hosanna to the Lord!
The Prince of long prophetic years
To day in Bethlehem appears!
He comes! the Conqueror's march begins,
No blood his banner stains;
He comes to save the world from sins,
And break the captive's chains!
The poor, the sick and blind shall bless
The Prince of Peace and Righteousness.
No blood his banner stains;
He comes to save the world from sins,
And break the captive's chains!
The poor, the sick and blind shall bless
The Prince of Peace and Righteousness.
115
Though now in swaddling-clothes he lies,
All hearts his power shall own,
When he, with legions of the skies,
The clouds of heaven his throne,
Shall come to judge the quick and dead,
And strike a trembling world with dread.
All hearts his power shall own,
When he, with legions of the skies,
The clouds of heaven his throne,
Shall come to judge the quick and dead,
And strike a trembling world with dread.
| Specimens of American poetry | |