Thou art in light —
They are in light;
Thou hast a crown — they a chain.
The very sod,
Made theirs by God,
Is still by tyrants' footsteps trod;
They pray — but all in vain.
Thou! near Christ's throne,
Dost hear the moan
Of all their hearts that grieve;
Ah! virgin sweet,
Kneel at His feet,
Where angels' hymns thy prayer shall greet,
And pray for them this eve.
New Year
Each year cometh with all his days,
Some are shadowed and some are bright;
He beckons us on until he stays
Kneeling with us 'neath Christmas night.
Kneeling under the stars that gem
The holy sky, o'er the humble place,
When the world's sweet Child of Bethlehem
Rested on Mary, full of grace.
Not only the Bethlehem in the East,
But altar Bethlehem everywhere,
When the ~Gloria~ of the first great feast
Rings forth its gladness on the air.
Each year seemeth loath to go,
And leave the joys of Christmas day;
In lands of sun and in lands of snow,
The year still longs awhile to stay.
A little while, 'tis hard to part
From this Christ blessed here below,
Old year! and in thy aged heart
I hear thee sing so sweet and low.
A song like this, but sweeter far,
And yet as if with a human tone,
Under the blessed Christmas star,
And thou descendest from thy throne.
"A few more days and I am gone,
The hours move swift and sure along;
Yet still I fain would linger on
In hearing of the Christmas song.