The record-union., 1896-12-27


The carols children sung;
The sweeteSt stories ever told
Or Esped by infant tongue.
1 seem, tonight. once more to see
Our mother-Iong since dead
The baby, sleeping on her knee,
AS tenderly she said:
Listen, children! You must know,
Oh! so many years ago,
Shepherds seated on the ground
Saw an angel coming down
Tidings of great joy TO bring
Then they heard some voices stngi
G-isten TO the wondrous story
Which they hung in hymns of joy)
Glory in the highest, Gloryl
Glory be TO God most high!
Joyful. all ye nations, rise
Join the triumph Of the skies;
With the angelic host proclaim,
Christ is born in Bethlehem.
Oh! Those songs she used to sing
Years ago, when l was young,
Round my heart tonight they cling
Christmas songs that mother sung.
Hail, thou long expected Jesus,
Born to set thy people free:
From our fears and sins release US,
Let us find our rest in thee.
Born thy people to deliver,
Born a child, yet God, our King;
Born to reign in us forever,
Now Thy gracious Kingdom bring.
By Thine own eternal spirit
Rule in all our hearts alone;
By Thine all-sufficient merit
Raise US to Thy glorious throne!"
Sing me the hymns my mother sung
Before her hair turned white,
While round her knee the children clunE
That joyous Christmas night
Turn back Thy universe, o, Lord!
Around me memories weave
That joy and holiness afford
OF oldtime Christmas Eve.
Oh, let me be a child again,
In childhood's songs rejoice;
Oh, let me happiness regain
And hear that angel voice:
TT came upon the midnight clear,
That glorious song of old
From angels bending near the earth
To touch their harps of gold;
Peace on the earth, good will to men,
From Heavens all-gracious King;
The world in solemn stiffness lay
To hear the angels sing.
o, ye, beneath life's crushing load
Whose forms are bending low,
Who toll along the climbing hours
| Come swiftly on the wing:
o. rest beside the weary road
And hear the angels sing
That was the hymn I'd rather hear
Than anthems sung to-day;
It comes in mem'ry faint and clear
From voices far away.
Sing me the tunes we used to sing
With love in every tone
| When earthly things are vanishing,
And life is nearly done.
Sing me that Christmas hymn of old
The one the children sung
The sweetest story ever told
Or lisped by infant tongue;
Calm on the listening ear of night
Come Heavens meiodious strains,
Where wild Judea stretches far
Her silver mantled plains.
Celestial choirs from courts above
Shed sacred glories there
And angels, with their sparkling Tyres,
Make music on the air.
The answering hills of Palestine
| Send back the glad reply,
And greet, from all their holy nights
The day spring from on high
| Ger the blue depths of Galilee
There comes a holier calm
And Sharon waves, in solemn praise,
| Her silent groves of palm.
| Glory to God.' the sounding skies
| Loud with their anthems ring,
| Peace to the earth, good will to men,
| From Heavens eternal Kingi'
! Light on Thy hills, Jerusalem!
| The Savior now is born
| And bright on Bethlehems Joyous plain
Breaks the first Christmas morn"
| Those Christmas hymns my mother sung
| Those oear old hymns are best!
| Oh! may they be upon my tongue
When weary ones find rest!
Howard Cayhv