The Birthday Of Christ

THE BIRTHDAY OF CHRIST.

Early on the Christmas morn,
Night her veil had just withdrawn;
Angels chanted loud and clear,
" Wake ! awake ! the Lord is near!"

Now the wise men's weary feet,
Hastened on with step more fleet,
As the voices swelled their lay,
" Christ the Lord is born to-day."

With their eyes fixed on the star
Onward gazed the men afar;
Sweet the angels sang again,
" Peace on earth, good will to men.'

Now the wise men's footsteps stay,
Angels hush their chanting lay;
Joy and adoration blend,
As above the stall they bend.

Think you, in the infant wail,
Heard they echo of the nail
Driven in His tender form?
Did they think for that He's born?

Nay! the halo round His head
Fixed their steadfast gaze instead;
Not alone for death and shame,
Ridicule and scorn and blame;

But as royal Prince of Peace,
Medium of sin's release;
To be glorified He came,
And to glorify God's name.