'"
* * * * *
Ah, little Dear-my-Soul, you know--you know whereof the moonbeam
spake. The shepherd's bones are dust, the flocks are scattered, the
old olive-tree is gone, the flowers of the hill-side are withered, and
none knoweth where the grave of Dimas is made. But last night, again,
there shined a star over Bethlehem, and the angels descended from the
sky to earth, and the stars sang together in glory. And the
bells,--hear them, little Dear-my-Soul, how sweetly they are
ringing,--the bells bear us the good tidings of great joy this
Christmas morning, that our Christ is born, and that with him he
bringeth peace on earth and good-will toward men.
CHRISTMAS MORNING
The angel host that sped last night,
Bearing the wondrous news afar,
Came in their ever-glorious flight
Unto a slumbering little star.
"Awake and sing, O star!" they cried.
"Awake and glorify the morn!
Herald the tidings far and wide--
He that shall lead His flock is born!"
The little star awoke and sung
As only stars in rapture may,
And presently where church bells hung
The joyous tidings found their way.
[Illustration:
Share thou this holy time with me,
The universal hymn of love.
]
"Awake, O bells! 't is Christmas morn--
Awake and let thy music tell
To all mankind that now is born
What Shepherd loves His lambkins well!"
Then rang the bells as fled the night
O'er dreaming land and drowsing deep,
And coming with the morning light,
They called, my child, to you asleep.
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