The trivial round, the common task, Seek we no more; content with thefe, Only, O Lord, in Thy dear love, To live more nearly as we pray. KEBLE. XIX. CHRISTMAS. HAT fudden blaze of fong, Spreads o'er the expanfe of Heaven? In waves of light it thrills along, Th' angelic fignal given. "Glory to God!" from yonder cen tral fire, Flows out the echoing lay beyond the ftarry quire; Like circles widening round Upon a clear blue river, Orb after orb, the wondrous found Is echoed on for ever: "Glory to God on high, on earth be peace, And love towards men of love, falvation and release." Yet stay, before thou dare To join that feftal throng, Liften, and mark what gentle air 'Tis not, "the Saviour born in David's home, To whom for power and health obedient worlds should come:". "Tis not "the Chrift the Lord: ". With fix'd adoring look The choir of Angels caught the word, Nor yet their filence broke ; But when they heard the fign, where Christ should be, In fudden light they shone and heavenly harmony. Wrapped in his fwaddling bands, And in his manger laid, The hope and glory of all lands, Is come to the world's aid; No peaceful home upon His cradle smil'd, Guests rudely went and came, where flept the royal Child. But where Thou dwelleft, Lord, No other thought should be, Once duly welcom'd and ador'd, How fhould I part with Thee? Bethlehem muft lose Thee foon, but Thou wilt grace The fingle heart to be thy fure abiding-place. O faint ye not for fear What though your wandering sheep, High Heaven, in mercy to your fad annoy, Still greets you with glad tidings of immortal joy. Think on th' eternal home, The Saviour left for you; Think on the Lord most holy, come So fhall ye tread untir'd His pastoral ways, And in the darkness fing your carol of high praise. Star of the Eaft, the horizon adorning, Guide where our infant Redeemer is laid. Cold on His cradle the dew-drops are fhining, Low lies His head with the beasts of the stall; Angels adore Him, in flumber reclining, Maker, and Monarch, and Saviour of all. H Say, fhall we yield Him, in coftly devotion, Gems of the mountain, and pearls of the ocean, Vainly we offer each ample oblation; Dearer to God are the prayers of the poor. Crufh and kill each fecret fin, Pure to praise and worship Thee. Jefus at Thy lateft feast, John once leaned upon Thy breaft; G |