Isaac Watts

Hush, my dear, lie still and slumber;
Holy angels guard thy bed;
Heavenly blessings without number
Gently falling on thy head.

Sleep, my babe, thy food and raiment,
House and home, thy friends provide;
All without thy care, or payment,
All thy wants are well supplied.

How much better thou’rt attended
Than the Son of God could be,
When from heaven He descended,
And became a child like thee!

Soft and easy is thy cradle;
Coarse and hard thy Savior lay,
When His birthplace was a stable,
And His softest bed was hay.

See the kindly shepherds round him,
Telling wonders from the sky!
When they sought Him, there they found Him,
With his Virgin-Mother by.

See the lovely babe a-dressing;
Lovely infant, how He smiled!
When He wept, the mother’s blessing
Soothed and hushed the holy child.

La, He slumbers in His manger,
Where the honest oxen fed;
Peace, my darling! here’s no danger!
Here’s no ox a-near thy bed!

Mayst thou live to know and fear Him,
Trust and love Him all thy days;
Then go dwell forever near Him,
See His face, and sing His praise!

I could give thee thousand kisses,
Hoping what I most desire;
Not a mother’s fondest wishes
Can to greater joys aspire.

Nora Archibald Smith

Deep in the shelter of the cave,

The ass with drooping head

Stood weary in the shadow, where

His master’s hand had led.

About the manger oxen lay,

Bending a wide-eyed gaze

Upon the little new-born Babe,

Half worship, half amaze.

High in the roof the doves were set,

And cooed there, soft and mild,

Yet not so sweet as, in the hay,

The Mother to her Child.

The gentle cows breathed fragrant breath

To keep Babe Jesus warm,

While loud and clear, o’er hill and dale,

The cocks crowed, “Christ is born I”

Out in the fields, beneath the stars,

The young lambs sleeping lay,

And dreamed that in the manger slept

Another white as they.

These were Thy neighbors, Christmas Child;

To Thee their love was given,

For in Thy baby face there shone

The wonder-light of Heaven.

James S. Park

So crowded was the little town

On the first Christmas day,

Tired Mary Mother laid her down,

To rest upon the hay.

(Ah, would my door might have been thrown,

Wide open on her way!)

But when the Holy Babe was born,

In the deep hush of night,

It seemed as if a Sabbath morn,

Had come with sacred light.

Child Jesus made the place forlorn

With his own beauty bright.

The manger rough was all his rest;

The cattle, having fed,

Stood silent by, or closer pressed,

And gravely wondered.

(Ah, Lord, if only that my breast

Had cradled Thee instead!)

Mary Austin

Oh, the Shepherds in Judea,
They are pacing to and fro,
For the air grows chill at twilight
And the weanling lambs are slow!

Leave, 0 lambs, the dripping sedges, quit the bramble and the brier,
Leave the fields of barley stubble, for we light the watching fire;
Twinkling fires across the twilight, and a bitter watch to keep,
Lest the prowlers come a-thieving where the flocks unguarded sleep.

Oh, the Shepherds in Judea,
They are singing soft and low -
Song the blessed angels taught them
All the centuries ago!

There was never roof to hide them, there were never walls to bind;
Stark they lie beneath the star-beams, whom the blessed angels find,
With the huddled flocks upstarting, wondering if they hear aright,
While the Kings come riding, riding, solemn shadows in the night.

Oh, the Shepherds in Judea,
They are thinking, as they go,
Of the light that broke their watching
On the hillside in the snow! -

Scattered snow along the hillside, white as springtime fleeces are,
With the whiter wings above them and the glory-streaming star -
Guiding-star across the housetops; never fear the Shepherds felt
Till they found the Babe in manger where the kindly cattle knelt.

Oh, the Shepherds in Judea! -
Do you think the Shepherds know
How the whole round earth is brightened
In the ruddy Christmas glow?

How the sighs are lost in laughter, and the laughter brings the tears,
As the thoughts of men go seeking back across the darkling years
Till they find the wayside stable that the star-led Wise Men found,
With the Shepherds, mute, adoring, and the glory shining round!

Cecil Frances Alexander

Saw you never in the twilight,
When the sun had left the skies,
Up in heaven the clear stars shining,
Through the gloom like silver eyes?

So of old the wise men watching,
Saw a little stranger star,
And they knew the King was given,
And they follow’d it from far.

Heard you never of the story,
How they cross’d the desert wild,
Journey’d on by plain and mountain,
Till they found the Holy Child?
How they open’d all their treasure,
Kneeling to that Infant King,
Gave the gold and fragrant incense,
Gave the myrrh in offering?

Know ye not that lowly Baby
Was the bright and morning star,
He who came to light the Gentiles,
And the darken’d isles afar?
And we too may seek his cradle,
There our heart’s best treasures bring, Love, and Faith, and true devotion,
For our Saviour, God, and King.

Anonymous

“To Bethlem did they go,
The shepherds three;
To Bethlem did they go
To see whe’r it were so or no,
Whether Christ were born or no
To set men free.”

Masters, in this hall,
Hear ye news to-day
Brought over sea,
And ever I you pray.
Nowell! Nowell! Nowell! Nowell!
Sing we clear!
Holpen are all folk on earth,
Born is God’s Son so dear.

Going over the hills,
Through the milk-white snow,
Heard I ewes bleat
While the wind did blow.
Nowell, &c.

Shepherds many an one
Sat among the sheep;
No man spake more word
Than they had been asleep.
Nowell, &c.

Quoth I ‘Fellows mine,
Why this guise sit ye?
Making but dull cheer,
Shepherds though ye be?
Nowell, &c.

‘Shepherds should of right
Leap and dance and sing;
Thus to see ye sit
Is a right strange thing.’
Nowell, &c.

Quoth these fellows then
‘To Bethlem town we go,
To see a Mighty Lord
Lie in manger low.’
Nowell, &c.

‘How name ye this Lord,
Shepherds?’ then said 1.
‘Very God’ they said,
‘Come from Heaven high.’
Nowell, &c.

Then to Bethlem town
We went two and two,
And in a sorry place
Heard the oxen low.
Nowell, &c.

Therein did we see
A sweet and goodly May,
And a fair old man;
Upon the straw she lay.
Nowell, &c.

And a little CHILD
On her arm had she;
‘Wot ye who this is?’
Said the hinds to me.
Nowell, &c.

Ox and ass him know,
Kneeling on their knee:
Wondrous joy had I
This little BABE to see.
Nowell, &c.

This is CHRIST the Lord,
Masters, be ye glad!
Christmas is come in,
And no folk should be sad.
Nowell, &c.

Edward Thring

Happy night and happy silence downward softly stealing,
Softly stealing over land and sea,
Stars from golden censors swing a silent eager feeling
Down on Judah, down on Galilee;
And all the wistful air, and earth, and sky,
Listened, listened for the gladness of a cry.

Holy night, a sudden flash of light its way is winging:
Angels, angels, all above, around;
Hark, the angel voices, hark, the angel voices singing;
And the sheep are lying on the ground.
Lo, all the wistful air, and earth, and sky,
Listen, listen to the gladness of the cry.
Happy night at Bethlehem; soft little hands are feeling,

Feeling in the manger with the kine:
Little hands, and eyelids closed in sleep, while angels kneeling,
Mary mother, hymn the Babe Divine.
Lo, all the wistful air, and earth, and sky,
Listen, listen to the gladness of the cry.

Wide, as if the light were music, flashes adoration:
“Glory be to God, nor ever cease,”
All the silence thrills, and speeds the message of salvation:
H Peace on earth, good-will to men of peace.”
Lo, all the wistful air, and earth, and sky,
Listen, listen to the gladness of the cry.
Holy night, thy solemn silence evermore enfoldeth

Angels songs and peace from God on high:
Holy night, thy watcher still with faithful eye beholdeth
Wings that wave, and angel glory nigh,
Lo, hushed is strife in air, and earth, and sky,
Still thy watchers hear the gladness of the cry.

Praise Him, ye who watch the night, the silent night of ages:
Praise Him, shepherds, praise the Holy Child;
Praise Him, ye who hear the light,
0 praise Him, all ye sages;
Praise Him, children, praise Him meek and mild.
Lo, peace on Earth, glory to God on high,
Listen, listen to the gladness of the cry.

Margaret Deland

Like small curled feathers, white and soft,
The little clouds went by,
Across the moon, and past the stars,
And down the western sky:
In upland pastures, where the grass
With frosted dew was white,
Like snowy clouds the young sheep lay,
That first, best Christmas night.
The shepherds slept; and, glimmering faint,
With twist of thin, blue smoke,
Only their fire’s crackling flames
The tender silence broke-
Save when a young lamb raised his head,
Or, when the night wind blew,
A nesting bird would softly stir,
Where dusky olives grew-
With finger on her solemn lip,
Night hushed the shadowy earth,
And only stars and angels saw
The little Saviour’s birth;
Then came such flash of silver light
Across the bending skies,
The wondering shepherds woke, and hid
Their frightened, dazzled eyes I
And all their gentle sleepy flock
Looked up, then slept again,
Nor knew the light that dimmed the stars
Brought endless Peace to men-
Nor even heard the gracious words
That down the ages ring
The Christ is born! the Lord has come,
Good-will on earth to bring! ”
Then o’er the moonlit, misty fields,
Dumb with the world’s great joy,
The shepherds sought the white-walled town,
Where lay the baby boy-
And oh, the gladness of the world,
The glory of the skies,
Because the longed-for Christ looked up
In Mary’s happy eyes!

John Addington Symonds

Sleep, baby, sleep! The Mother sings:

Heaven’s angels kneel and fold their wings.

Sleep, baby, sleep!

With swathes of scented hay Thy bed By Mary’s hand at eve was spread.

Sleep, baby, sleep!

At midnight came the shepherds, they Whom seraphs wakened by the way.

Sleep, baby, sleep!

And three kings from the East afar, Ere dawn came, guided by the star.

Sleep, baby, sleep!

They brought Thee gifts of gold and gems, Pure orient pearls, rich diadems.

Sleep, baby, sleep!

But Thou who liest slumbering there, Art King of Kings, earth, ocean, air.

Sleep, baby, sleep!

Sleep, baby, sleep! The shepherds sing:

Through heaven, through earth, hosannas ring.

Sleep, baby, sleep!

Margaret Deland

Hushed are the pigeons cooing low
On dusty rafters of the loft;
And mild-eyed oxen, breathing soft,
Sleep on the fragrant hay below.

Dim shadows in the corner hide;
The glimmering lantern’s rays are shed
Where one young lamb just lifts his head,
Then huddles ‘gainst his mother’s side.

Strange silence tingles in the air;
Through the half-open door a bar
Of light from one low-hanging star
Touches a baby’s radiant hair.

No sound: the mother, kneeling, lays
Her cheek against the little face.
Oh human love! Oh heavenly grace
‘Tis yet in silence that she prays!

Ages of silence end to-night;
Then to the long-expectant earth
Glad angels come to greet
His birth In burst of music, love, and light!