The Highland weekly news. [volume] (Hillsborough [Hillsboro], Highland County, Ohio) 1853-1886, 1870-12-22

<AASAO OA-4e+A poElOu W gu8 Llul8 OF the
Reformation and downwards.
Here is one of the earliest and best
nearer four than three hundred years old
from the Harleian MSS. In the British
Museums
/ @ IN E1oELsIs GLORIA.
When Christ WsS born of Mary freu,
In Bethlehem, In that fair eitis,
Angels sang there with mirth sud EIos:
In Excslsis GlOriag
HsrdSmen behsd these angels bright,
To them Appearing with great light,
Who said, 'GOd's Son is born this night,
In EzcslSiS GIOrial''
This King iS come to saEe mankind,
As in Scripture truths We find,
Therefore this song have we In mind,
! In Exeslsis aloriai
Then, dear Lord. for Thy great grace,
Grant US the bliss 70 see Thy face,
Ths. we may sing to thy sSIaes,
In Exeelsis GlOrisl
This Is simple, but good id It's simpllci-
ty. Most Of the Elizabethan poets have
left odes on Christmas. We give a stanza
from good George Herbert Of this period
The shepherds sIug, and shall silent Boi
Ny God, no hymn for Thee
Ny SOULS shepherd, too a hock it feeds
OF thoughts aad words and desdu.
The pasture ID Thy word the utreatns Thy grace,
Enriohing all the place.
But, amid all the minstreisy of the Eng
1ish Christmas, no one comes forth more
sublime than Millions grand
HTHN TO THE NAr1vITT
It was the winter wild,
While the heaven-bOrn child,
All meanly wrapt in the rude mungsr lissi
Nature, in awe, to Him,
Had dof t her gaudy trim,
With her great Master to sympaihizoi
It was no season, then, for her
To wantOn with the OuD-hsr luSty paramOur.
But peaceful was the night,
Wherein the Prince Of Light,
His reign Of peace upon the earth bsgani
The winds with wonder whist,
Smoothly the waters kiss'd,
Whisp 9ring new joys to the mild ocean,
Who now hath quite forgot to rave,
While birds Of calm sit brOOding the charmed
The stars with dead amaze,
Stand ax'd in .tsadlass gaze,
Bending one way their precious inHuenco
And viii not take their flight,
ForaIl the morning light,
Or Lucifer. thas ofton Rsru,d them thence --
But in their gmm' ring orbS did glow,
Until thsis Le4d himsst baspaks and bid them go.
Here is hymn-tender as the voice of
childhood-from Keble:
CHRISTMAS CHURCH BELLS.
Wake me tonight, my mother dear,
That may bear
The Christmas bells, so soft and clear,
To high and low glad tidIbgs tell:
How God the Father loved us well;
How God the Eternal Son
Game to undo what He had done;
How God the Paraclete,
Who in the chaste womb found the Babe 90 sweet,
In power and glory came, the birth to aid and greet
Wake me, that the twslVemOnth long
May bear the song
About with me in the worlds thronz;
That treasured joys of Christmas-tids.
May with mine hour Of gloom abide
The Christmas carol ring
Deep 10 my heart, when I would sing;
Each the twelve good days
Its earnest yield Of duteous love and praise,
InsuFiug happy months and hallOwing common ways.
Wake me, my mother dear,
That may hear
The peal Ofths departing year.
o, we'll love, the step Of Time
Should move to that familiar chime;
Fall the tones that steep
The Old Year in ths dews Of sleep,
The New guide softly in
With hopes to sweet, sad memories akinl
Long may that soothing cadence ear, heart and con-
science winl
We contrast these sweet strains with 4
the still sweeter words Of Wordsworth,
addressed to his brother-a beautiful ex-
ample of his peculiar style:
CHRISTMAS MINsTEELsY.
The minstreIs play'd their Christmas tune,
Tonight, beneath my cottage earsBi
While, Smitten BY lofty moon,
The encircling laures, thick with leaves,
Gave back a.rich and dazzling sheen,
That oVerpowerd their natural green
And who but llstened7-till was paid
Respect to svsry inmates claim;
The greeting given, the music pIayd
In honor Ofeach household name,
Duly pronounced with lusty call,
And merry Christmas'' wished to all
Here are good old homely lines from
''PoOr Robins Almanac" 100;
Now that the time is come wherein
Our Saviour Christ was born,
The larders full of beef and pork,
And garners frd with corn,
Let fires in every chimney bs,
That people they may warm them;
Tables with dishes COssrd, .
Good victuals will not harm thsm.
Good customs they may be abuIsd,
Which makes rich men 50 slack US;
This feast is to relieve the poor,
And not to drunken Bscchus.
We conclude our Christmas carols with
the good, solid words Of Walter Scott,
Heap on more wood; the wind is chill;
Bat let IL whistle as II win,
Wen keep our Christmas merry still.