The daily exchange. [volume] (Baltimore, Md.) 1858-1861, 1858-12-25
BALTIMORE.
SATURDAY. DECEMBER 25, 1858.

MERRY CHRISTMAS gentle reader, to you and
to all the world We could not say less to those
whose hands have been so kindly held out to us,
for many months, and with whom we have had
such frequent and friendly converse-and it were
churlish, at this genial season, to refrain from
saying as much to all men, A merry Christmas,
then, we repeat, and happy one to all who will
receive Our greeting May it find them in joyous
homes, with those they love about them-free,
for the time at least, from care-and full of hope
which may not depart with the season OF all
holidays that the world knows-Christmas is the
gentest and the best. For its festivities there is
no programme. 1t is only time for happy meet
ings, kindly wishes and forgiving smiles. Life,
it is true ought to be a continuing season for
such fruits, but unfortunately men make it
otherwise and there is the better reason therefore,
for blessing Christmas, which is sure TO bring
them.
Men do not welcome it now as in the olden time
with quaint ceremonies and boisterous hilarity
Though the evergreen is still on the wall, the
boar'S head does not grace the feast. The num-
mers have long since been unmasked, and the
carols that once saluted the morning sun have
been silent many year. We trust that the spirit of
the festival still dwells in mems hearts and gaddens
their fresides as genally as in days of yore Yet
we love old customs for the old thoughts and feel
ings that are in them, and sometimes wish that we
could hear again the village singers, who at day
dawn, strove Justify to render into music, their
rude Christmas hymns. We have fancy we could
join them ourselves if our readers would keep the
score. Let us try
The IN orning is breaking as once it broke,
When the whispering angels softly spoke,
Telling or hopes that would shortly bring
Relief to the hearts that were sorrowing-
And weary
Were cheered again,
As they joyfully caus hit the tidings then.
But year upon year hath come and gone
And the again doth as brightly dawn,
Yet hearts are as mauy-now mourning DER
Their ungarnered hopes, as in days of yore,
And men still pray
For better day,
As they did i'll the ages passed away.
But perhaps the song may be little sadder than
the merry time will warrant, and the reader may
choose another more congenial to his humor.
Here are two. Let him please himself. We have
given him what we have-will he not bid Cop
bless the giver?
On the Swiss mountains-when wandered there
In the Wild awful passes all alone,
little cross Of iron, cold and bare
Rose, Oft before me, from wayside stone.
Strange uncouth names they bore-a holy sign
Traced by rude hands upon rustic scroll
And, blOtted by the SHOWS piteous line
Begging our prayers for the poor sleeper's soul.
Some traveller it was, perchance, whose doom
The torrent or the avalanche had sped
Mayhap was buried there some peasant, whom
The hunted channels DER the cliff had led
His simple thoughts had never crossed the sea-
From whose far borders to his grave came,
Yet, as a brother, called he unto me,
And my hearts echo gave him back the nanel
Peace to thy spirit, BrotherI I had felt
The quick'nin OF the blood that wanderers feel,
At thought of home and country. had knelt
At affairs where the nations to kneel--
But knew never in its depth-till when
Thy lonely shrine besought me for my prayer
The sense of kindred with all sons of men
One love, one hope, Gods pity every where
Thus from its SCROLL thou gentle Christmas tide
Thy cross-uplifted DER the wastes of time
Speaks to earths pilgrims, in His name who died,
Good will and peace and brotherhood sublime
And, unto them that hail thee, chiefly worth
Are the glad wreaths thou twinest round the year,
For that thou bidd st our human hearts go FORTH
Wherever love can warm or kindness cheer.
Up the bleak heights of daily toll press,
Too busy with our journey and our load
TO heed the hurried grasp the brief caress,
The brother talntng on that weary road.
1hen welcome be the hours and thoughts and things
That win us from ourselves. little while,
To that sweet human fellowship, which brings
The only human joy unstained Of guile
II.
The day of promise dawns once more;
And ponderous clang and merry chime,
Ring in the hoary Christmas time,
As in the jocund days of yore.!
Fair Childhood prattes in the hail.
Counting its toys and Youth is gay,
As, standing in lies middle way.
1t hears both Hope and Memory call:
Nor knows it which to hold most dear
Both voices sound so glorious then,
One chanting noble things OF men,
One-boyhoods paans wild and clear
While Age, from cares too seldom free
To-day forgetteth toll and pain;
Glad that the voice speaks out again.
Which Gained tempestuous Galiee
BE OF good cheer'' whate'er betide-
The words, through lapsing centuries,
Der desert lands and sullen seas,
Have since re echoed far and wide.
Then let the bells still ring them out,
In morHing salutation sweet;
Let joyous footballs fill the street;
Be genial noises all about
Let Sorrow welcome every chime
And Poverty be of good cheer,
Remembering how the stars drew near
The lowlest roof at Christmas time.