CHRISTMAS EVE

From church and chapel and dome and tower,

Near — far and everywhere,

The merry bells chime loud and clear

Upon the frosty air.

All down the marble avenues

The lamp-lit casements glow,

And from an hundred palaces

Glad carols float and flow.

A thousand lamps from street to street

Blaze on the dusky air,

And light the way for happy feet

To carol, praise and prayer.

‘ Tis Christmas eve. In church and hall

The laden fir-trees bend;

Glad children throng the festival

And grandsires too attend.

Fur-wrapped and gemmed with pearls and gold,

Proud ladies rich and fair

As Egypt's splendid queen of old

In all her pomp are there.

And many a costly, golden gift

Hangs on each Christmas-tree,

While round and round the carols drift

In waves of melody.

In a dim and dingy attic,

Away from the pomp and glare,

A widow sits by a flickering lamp,

Bowed down by toil and care.

On her toil-worn hand her weary head,

At her feet a shoe half-bound,

On the bare, brown table a loaf of bread,

And hunger and want around.

By her side at the broken window,

With her rosy feet all bare,

Her little one carols a Christmas tune

To the chimes on the frosty air.

And the mother dreams of the by-gone years

And their merry Christmas-bells,

Till her cheeks are wet with womanly tears,

And a sob in her bosom swells.

The child looked up; her innocent ears

Had caught the smothered cry;

She saw the pale face wet with tears

She fain would pacify.

“Do n't cry, mama,” she softly said —

“Here's a Christmas gift for you,”

And on the mother's cheek a kiss

She printed warm and true.

“God bless my child!” the mother cried

And caught her to her breast —

“O Lord, whose Son was crucified,

Thy precious gift is best.

“If toil and trouble be my lot

While on life's sea I drift,

O Lord, my soul shall murmur not,

If Thou wilt spare Thy gift.”