CHRISTMAS
What angels sang on that first Christmas morn,
“Good will to men,” “The Prince of Peace is born,”
Breaks once again in benediction clear,
Sure song of God, the climax of the year.
Round, round the earth the blessed measures run,
Strife sheathes the sword, a thousand think as one,
Babes leap for joy, December hearts aglow
Burn with the hopes they burned with long ago.
Strain urges strain, benevolence is sped,