Daily globe. [volume] (St. Paul, Minn.) 1878-1884, 1881-12-25
THE CHILDREN's CAROLS.

THE CHILDREN's CAROLS.
In the forest hamlet there lived a
poet, and he labored with his hands,
singing, as he worked. He loved, as all
poets must, the earth and the sky, with
all their flowers and stars. In his youth
he had wandered in the woods, full of
love and Joy. His spirit had gone up
with the lark till he felt breathless with
| gladness, as if with fight. He had flung
himself on bank beside tuft of prim-
roses, and kissed them as passionately
as other youths kiss the maidens of their
choice, and he had lifted up his sweetly-
moving lips to heaven, when no one wit
messed, as if he would kiss the face of
the sky. The mild old man still loved
the flowers and stars, but more than
these he loved the children, and gathered
them about his knees and taught them
He taught them to sing sweet songs and
merry glees, which some, who were
counted wise, called foolish things. He
taught them also to sing in church; and
the voice of one child was as the voice of
an angel, as it rose above all others in
"We praise Thee, 0 God!'
In advent, when Christmas was at
hand, the little scholars met night after
night to learn new song, which no one
else should hear until Christmas came;
and, indeed, no one seemed to care ex-
cept the little singers who kept the
secret.
Christmas came at last, and the chill
dren went out to sing the new carol
whose words were to open every heart.
It was a hard winter, and there was
hunger in the hamlet. The children
went out to sing, and what the rich gave
was to be given to the poor. That was
their secret.
First they went to the house of rich
farmer. He was hard man, and had
neither wife nor child. One who should
have been his wife had been trodden
down into the mire of great city; and
one who was his child had never known
father, and was in Gods hands upon
the sea.
The fir-trees on the bank behind the
house did not stir, and every bough of
every tree stood still as If frozen while
the children sang:
On this blessed eve we sing
| Glad tidings! Glad tidingsi
To men of goodwill we bring
| Glad tidings Glad tidingsl
Lo! the Prince of'Peace and Light
Lay in manger;
Wouldst thou have Him here tonight
House the poor stranger.
We are children of the Lord,
Loving each other;
| Be thou His, by love restored,
Father or brother
Let us in, and let us bring
| Glad tidings Glad tdngH
In the dark we pass and sing
Glad tidings Glad tdings!
The light glanced out of the long,
low window, and hickered on the forms
of the children as they sang, the one
angel-voiced boy singing each line alone
and the others taking it up in chorus.
And the man who sat within in the
shadow heard the song. His barns were
full; his purse was full; but his heart
was empty and hard-hard with the
fierce hardness of night of frost. And
it grew harder as he listened, and he
rose and cursed the children, and took
up his staff to go out and beat them,
but his arm trembled, and he only
cursed. And the children went away,
sad and silent.
And after they had gone, storm, as
wild as ever tore the woods, ragged in
the mans heart, and he knew that his
life was barren and desolate, and he
cursed the day he was born. There were
no glad tidings this Christmas for him
Then the children came to a poor cot
tage in the wood, and began again to
chant, and no sooner had they begun
than the door was opened, and they were
welcomed in. Then they made circle
about the father and mother and little
ones, and went on:
He who was the King of kings
lie and none other
| Came not borne on angels winga
To His poor mother.
| For he came to weep and smile,
| Humble and lowly;
| Came to share all pain and toll,
| Making them holy.
Sowe come this night to sing
| Glad tidings! Glad fdingsl
| And to all this house we bring
| Glad tidingsl Glad tidingsl
And when the brief song was ended,
the mother, with tears in her eyes. kissed
her baby and laid it in his fathers arms.
and went and took the apples that had
baked on the hearth, and gave them to
the little singers, who laughed as they
burned their fingers, and blew with
their breath to cool them. Then,
warmed and comforted, they went, on,
richer in faith, at least. The house they
left behind was very empty OF pleasant
things, and the best of their poor supper
was gone, but the man and woman there
| never felt their hearts so full of love be-
| fore.
And now they came to the ale-house,
and there was such sound of noisy
laughter and rafting and oaths, that
they thought they must pass on, but the
| full light flashed upon them as the door
swung open-some half-drunken men