doom'd,

The Promise, hail'd afar, from age to age, By seer and prophet, beckoning into birth The empires. Hark! their voice which darkly spake

Of trouble and vicissitudes on earth, With change of kingdoms, clearly heralds forth

One realm, one nation, one Eternal King, Christ! Heard ye not the voice of joy, the voice

As of a host, a multitude in heaven?

Glory to God on high! Peace, peace on earth!

Rejoice ye shepherds! ye, who nightly keep Your flock by Bethlehem! Lo, yon star! Come forth!

Hail the desire of nations! From the east Come forth, ye Sages! for the expected birth Prepare rich offerings! Worship, earth, thy Lord,

A babe within the manger. Give the King Of Glory entrance. Who goes forth in power? All nature hears the Omnipotent. Ye winds! Be still! Thou troubled ocean, sink to rest! Thou sick, be heal'd! Thou lame, stand up!

Thou blind,

Receive thy sight! Thon, in the grave, arise!
Ye demons from the dispossest, confess
God in the veil of flesh! Oh! Son of Man,
Thy word is life eternal: Thou art life.
Spare me afflicting visions! spare my sight!
Oh burden'd with the sins of human-kind,
What agony like thine? Big drops of sweat
Fall from thy brow, like blood. Lo! angels

come

Administ'ring! Oh, thou art mock'd, yet dumb;

Scourged, but without complaint. Ye know

him not.

Abraham, your father knew, and joy'd to

see

His day. Lo this, the only Son of God:
An offering, a free ransom for mankind.
I see the spotless Lamb whom God provides
An everlasting sacrifice. 'Tis done,-
Justice and Mercy meet upon that cross.
He bows his head in death. Oh heav'n,
and earth!

Angel and man, bear witness of the God!
Darkness above: Earth to its centre shakes.

And let thy soul, whose sins his sorrows

wrought,

MILMAN.

Appear'd, upborne on wings of fire, A seraph host-an angel quire!

It came that glorious embassy,
To hail the Incarnate Mystery!
For this awoke the extatic hymn,
From glowing lips of seraphim!

Ne'er flow'd such strains on earthly gale,
O'er breezy hill, or list'ning vale,
Before; nor shall such sounds again
Break on the raptur'd ear of man,
Till, rising to his native sky,
He put on Immortality.

For this, too, flam'd o'er Bethlehem, The brightest in night's diadem, That herald star whose pilot ray Illum'd the magi's doubtful way; Bright wanderer through the fields of air, Which led the enquiring sages where, Cradled within a worthless manger, Slept on that morn the immortal stranger.

He might have come in regal pomp,
With pealing of archangel trump,―
An angel blast as loud and dread;
As that which shall awake the dead!
His lightning might have scar'd the night,
Streaming insufferable light;

His thunder, deep'ning, peal on peal,
Have made earth to her centre reel,
Deep voices such as shook with fear,
At Sinai's base, the favour'd seer;
The wing of whirlwind might have borne
him;

The trampling earthquake gone before him :
He might have come, that Holy One,
With millions round his awful throne,
Countless as are the sands that lie
On burning plains of Araby,
And arm'd for vengeance, who could stand
Before each conq'ring red right hand?

He came not thus, no earthquake shock Shiver'd the everlasting rock; No trumpet blast, nor thunder peal, Made earth through all her regions reel; And but for the mysterious voicing Of that unearthly quire rejoicing: And but for that strange herald gem, The star which burn'd o'er Bethlehem,

The shepherds, on his natal morn,
Had known not that the God was born.
There were no terrors, for the song
Of peace rose from the seraph throng;
On wings of love he came,-to save,
To pluck pale terror from the grave,
And, on the blood-stain'd Calvary,
He won for Man the victory!

H. K. WHITE.

YET Once more, and once more, awake, my harp,

From silence and neglect-one lofty strain; Lofty, yet wilder than the winds of Heaven, And speaking mysteries, more than words can tell,

I ask of thee; for I, with hymnings high, Would join the dirge of the departing year. Yet with no wintry garland from the woods, Wrought of the leafless branch, or ivy sear, Wreathe I thy tresses, dark December! now; Me higher quarrel calls, with loudest song, And tearful joy, to celebrate the day

Of the Redeemer.-Near two thousand suns Have set their seals upon the rolling lapse Of generations, since the day-spring first Beamed from on high !-Now to the mighty

mass

Of that increasing aggregate, we add
One unit more. Space, in comparison,
How small, yet mark'd with how much
misery;

Wars, famines, and the fury, Pestilence,
Over the nations hanging her dread scourge;
The oppressed, too, in silent bitterness,
Weeping their sufferance; and the arm of
wrong

Forcing the scanty portion from the weak, And steeping the lone widow's couch with

tears.

So has the year been character'd with wo In Christian land, and mark'd with wrongs and crimes;

Yet 'twas not thus He taught not thus He liv'd,

Whose birth we this day celebrate with prayer,