LET THERE BE JOY!
(A Christmas carol from the Scotch Gaelic)
| This is now the
blessed morn, When was born the Virgin's Son, Who from heights of glorious worth, Unto earth His way has won; All the heav'ns grow bright to greet Him, Forth to meet Him, ev'ry one! All hail! let there be joy! All hail! let there be joy! Mountains praise, with purple splendour, Plains, with tender tints, the morn; Shout, ye waves, with prophesying Voices crying, "Christ is born! Christ, the Son of heav'n's High King, Therefore sing no more forlorn!" All hail! let there be joy! All hail! let there be joy! |
A HOLIDAY HYMN
| He, unto whom the
Heavenly Father Hath in His works Himself revealed, Sees with rapt eyes the glory gather O'er hill and forest, flood and field. He, when the torrent laughs in thunder, Larks soar exulting in the blue, Thrills with the waterfall's glad wonder, Far up to heaven goes singing too; Wanders, a child among the daisies; Ponders, a poet, all things fair; Wreathes with the rose of dawn his praises, Weaves with eve's passion-flowers his prayer; Full sure that He who reared the mountain, Made smooth the valley, plumed the height, Holds in clear air the lark and fountain— Shall yet uplift him into light. |