A Mighty Fortress is our God.

195

We will not fear, for God hath willed

His truth to triumph through us. The Prince of Darkness grim,— We tremble not for him,

His rage we can endure,

For lo! his doom is sure,

One little word shall fell him.

That word above all earthly powers

No thanks to them

abideth :

The spirit and the gifts are ours

Through Him who with us sideth.

Let goods and kindred go,

This mortal life also;
The body they may kill,
God's truth abideth still,

His kingdom is for ever.

CHRISTMAS EVE.

HE sun is set, the stars begin
Their stations in His watch on

high,

As once around that Bethlehem inn;
The vesper hour is nigh.

A little maid with eager gaze

Comes hurrying to the house of prayer, Shaping in heart a wild green maze Of woodland branches there.

One look,-a cloud comes o'er her dream :
No burnished leaves, so fresh and clear,
No berries with their ripe red gleam:-
"There is no Christmas here.”

What if that little maiden's Lord,
The awful Child on Mary's knee,
Even now take up the accusing word:-
"No Christmas here I see.

Christmas Eve.

"Where are the fruits I yearly seek, As holy seasons pass away,

197

Eyes turned from ill, lips pure and meek, A heart that strives to pray?

"Where are the glad and artless smiles,
Like clustering hollies, seen afar
At eve along the o'ershaded aisles,
With the first twilight star?"

Spare, gracious Saviour, me and mine:
Our tardy vows in mercy hear,
While on our watch the cold skies shine
Of the departing year.

Ere we again that glimmering view,
Cleansed be our hearts and lowly laid;
The unfruitful plant do thou renew,
And all beneath its shade.

By winter frosts and summer heats,
By prunings sharp and waterings mild,
Keen airs of Lent, and Easter sweets,
Tame thou the sour and wild.

And dare we ask for one year more?
Yea, there is hope: One waits

on

high

To tell our contrite yearnings o'er,
And each adoring sigh.

If He in Heaven repeat our vow,

We copying here his pure dread will,O dream of joy!-the withered bough May blush with fruitage still.

New Year's Eve.

199

R

NEW YEAR'S EVE.

ING out, wild bells, to the wild sky, The flying cloud, the frosty light; The year is dying in the night; Ring out, wild bells, and let him die.

Ring out the old, ring in the new,

Ring, happy bells, across the snow: The year is going, let him go; Ring out the false, ring in the true.

Ring out the grief that saps the mind,

For those that here we see no more;
Ring out the feud of rich and poor,

Ring in redress to all mankind.

Ring out a slowly dying cause,

And ancient forms of party strife;
Ring in the nobler modes of life,

With sweeter manners, purer laws.

Ring out false pride in place and blood,

The civic slander and the spite;