 | New songs of innocence |  |
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CHRISTMAS MORNING.
The crimson of Christmas morning
Emblazons the cold grey sky,—
A scroll that has met but scorning
From all the years gone by.
‘To God in the highest, glory!
On earth peace; goodwill to men!’
But the writing is red and gory—
A sword has been the pen.
Emblazons the cold grey sky,—
A scroll that has met but scorning
From all the years gone by.
‘To God in the highest, glory!
On earth peace; goodwill to men!’
But the writing is red and gory—
A sword has been the pen.
Down all the long dark ages
That prophecy has come;
And still the world's fight rages
As though to drown thee dumb,
O pitiful Voice! that criest,
Still vainly, but ever again,
‘Glory to God in the highest;
On earth peace; goodwill to men!’
That prophecy has come;
And still the world's fight rages
As though to drown thee dumb,
O pitiful Voice! that criest,
Still vainly, but ever again,
‘Glory to God in the highest;
On earth peace; goodwill to men!’
Deaf are the proud oppressors
And the spiritless oppressed;
Defiant the bold transgressors,
Indifferent the rest.
The world has grown old and hoary
In struggles that never cease;
And who gives God any glory,
And where upon earth is peace?
And the spiritless oppressed;
Defiant the bold transgressors,
Indifferent the rest.
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In struggles that never cease;
And who gives God any glory,
And where upon earth is peace?
Willie, my heart's own angel,
Is there ought that we can do
To spread that old evangel
And bring its promise true?
Be ours, O Spirit that sighest
Through the storm-rifts, now and again,
‘Glory to God in the highest;
On earth peace; goodwill to men!’
Is there ought that we can do
To spread that old evangel
And bring its promise true?
Be ours, O Spirit that sighest
Through the storm-rifts, now and again,
‘Glory to God in the highest;
On earth peace; goodwill to men!’
| New songs of innocence | |