Birth

 BIRTH

O'ER Bethlehem's hills the stars of night
Were softly shining, clear and bright;
The flocks and herds were sleeping still,
On verdant dale and dewy hill,
And o'er earth's calm and peaceful breast
A benediction seemed to rest,

As though the whole creation knew,
And smiled a welcome warm and true
To Him, her long-expected Lord,
Foretold by Inspiration's Word, —
Foretold and sung by seer and sage,
Bright Star of Hope, from age to age.

Hark, hark! what strains of music rare,
Like faintest perfume fill the air!
And louder still, and still more loud.
Bursts from that swift descending cloud:
Such glorious notes ring o'er and o'er
As weary earth ne'er heard before;
Aloud the heavenly heralds sing.
While through the spheres the echoes ring.

''Glory to God in the highest!
Peace and good will to men!"
And the heavens caught the glad refrain,
And echoed it o'er again.
Then up from the hills of glory
There echoed the thrilling cry,
Rejoice, O Earth, for the Christ is born!
Glory to God on high!"