Christmas Hymn.
"Peace on earth, and good-will to men."
Lift up the grateful heart to Him,
The Friend of want and pain,
Whose birth the joyous angels sang,
On green Judea's plain;
"Good-will and peace!" how sweet the sound
Upon the midnight air,
While sleep the fleecy flocks around,
Watched by their shepherd's care.
So we, within this Christian fold,
Lambs of our teacher's love,
Who hear that melody divine,
Still echoing from above,
Would fain, through all of life, obey
The spirit of the strain,
That so the bliss by angels sung
Might not to us be vain.
The Frivolous King.
Richard the Second was grandson of Edward the Third, and the only son of the celebrated Black Prince. He ascended the throne at the age of eleven, with every advantage that could be derived from the partiality of the people for his illustrious ancestors. Especially the firmness and magnanimity of his father, and his union of goodness with greatness, won the favour of the historians of his times, who assert that he left a stainless honour and an unblemished name.
The young king, during an insurrection, gave some proofs of courage and presence of mind that impressed the nation favourably: and as he approached maturity, his graceful, majestic person awakened their admiration and pride. Had he by wise conduct and deportment confirmed these impressions, he might have swayed their affections, and firmly established himself in their love. But his demeanour was so light and frivolous, that he commanded no respect, while his self-confidence and contempt of wise counsel plunged him into misfortune. And as the mind that indulges itself in error is never stationary, he passed from indolence to acts of injustice, and even of cruelty.
He banished for life the Duke of Norfolk, against whom no crime had been proved, and condemned to a ten years' exile the young Duke of Bolingbroke, against whom no offence had been alleged. The last named nobleman was his own cousin, the son of John of Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster, brother of the Black Prince. The aged father deeply mourned this disgrace and unjust punishment inflicted on his only son. Had not Richard been destitute of true sympathy, it would have grieved him to see his white-haired relative sinking in despondence, and mourning night and day for the absence of his son. Borne down by sorrow, and the infirmities of declining years, he died, and his large estates were immediately taken for the use of the crown.
The banished Bolingbroke, exasperated at the seizure of his paternal inheritance, returned before the term of his exile had expired. When he entered his native land, some followers joined him, and as he passed onward, they increased to a formidable force. Richard was dilatory in his preparations to oppose them, and unfortunate in his encounters. He was defeated, and made prisoner by him who had once been the victim of his own tyranny.