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It was as if an earthquake rent
The hearth-stones of a continent,
And made forlorn

The households born

Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

And in despair I bowed my head;
"There is no peace on earth," I said,
"For hate is strong,

And mocks the song

Of peace on earth, good-will to men!"

Then pealed the bells more loud and deep:
"God is not dead, nor doth He sleep!
The Wrong shall fail,

The Right prevail,

With peace on earth, good-will to men!"

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow [1807–1882]

A CHRISTMAS CAROL

THE Christ-child lay on Mary's lap,

His hair was like a light.

(O weary, weary were the world, But here is all aright.)

The Christ-child lay on Mary's breast,

His hair was like a star.

(O stern and cunning are the kings, But here the true hearts are.)

The Christ-child lay on Mary's heart,

His hair was like a fire.

(O weary, weary is the world,

But here the world's desire.)

The Christ-child stood at Mary's knee,

His hair was like a crown,

And all the flowers looked up at Him,

And all the stars looked down.

Gilbert Keith Chesterton [1874

The House of Christmas

THE HOUSE OF CHRISTMAS

THERE fared a mother driven forth
Out of an inn to roam;

In the place where she was homeless
All men are at home.

The crazy stable close at hand,

With shaking timber and shifting sand,
Grew a stronger thing to abide and stand
Than the square stones of Rome.

For men are homesick in their homes,
And strangers under the sun,

And they lay their heads in a foreign land
Whenever the day is done.

Here we have battle and blazing eyes,

And chance and honor and high surprise,
But our homes are under miraculous skies
Where the yule tale was begun.

A Child in a foul stable,

Where the beasts feed and foam,

Only where He was homeless

Are you and I at home;

We have hands that fashion and heads that know,

But our hearts we lost-how long ago!

In a place no chart nor ship can show

Under the sky's dome.

This world is wild as an old wives' tale,

And strange the plain things are,

The earth is enough and the air is enough

For our wonder and our war;

But our rest is as far as the fire-drake swings

And our peace is put in impossible things

Where clashed and thundered unthinkable wings
Round an incredible star.

To an open house in the evening

Home shall men come,

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To an older place than Eden

And a taller town than Rome.

To the end of the way of the wandering star, To the things that cannot be and that are, To the place where God was homeless

And all men are at home.

Gilbert Keith Chesterton [1874

THE FEAST OF THE SNOW

THERE is heard a hymn when the panes are dim, And never before or again,

When the nights are strong with a darkness long, And the dark is alive with rain.

Never we know but in sleet and snow
The place where the great fires are,
That the midst of earth is a raging mirth,
And the heart of the earth a star.

And at night we win to the ancient inn,
Where the Child in the frost is furled,
We follow the feet where all souls meet,
At the inn at the end of the world.

The gods lie dead where the leaves lie red,
For the flame of the sun is flown;
The gods lie cold where the leaves are gold,
And a Child comes forth alone.

Gilbert Keith Chesterton [1874

MARY'S BABY

JOSEPH, mild and noble, bent above the straw: A pale girl, a frail girl, suffering he saw; "O my Love, my Mary, my bride, I pity thee!" "Nay, Dear," said Mary, "all is well with me!" "Baby, my baby, O my babe," she sang.

Suddenly the golden night all with music rang.

Gates and Doors

Angels leading shepherds, shepherds leading sheep:
The silence of worship broke the mother's sleep.
All the meek and lowly of all the world were there;
Smiling, she showed them that her Child was fair,
"Baby, my baby," kissing Him she said.

Suddenly a flaming star through the heavens sped.

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Three old men and weary knelt them side by side,
The world's wealth forswearing, majesty and pride;
Worldly might and wisdom before the Babe bent low:
Weeping, maid Mary said, "I love Him so!"
"Baby, my baby," and the Baby slept.

Suddenly on Calvary all the olives wept.

Shaemas OSheel [1886

GATES AND DOORS

A BALLAD OF CHRISTMAS EVE

THERE was a gentle hostler
(And blessed be his name!)
He opened up the stable

The night Our Lady came.
Our Lady and St. Joseph,

Не gave them food and bed,
And Jesus Christ has given him
A glory round his head.

So let the gate swing open
However poor the yard,
Lest weary people visit you

And find their passage barred.
Unlatch the door at midnight
And let your lantern's glow
Shine out to guide the traveler's feet
To you across the snow.

There was a courteous hostler

(He is in Heaven to-night) He held Our Lady's bridle And helped her to alight.

He spread clean straw before her
Whereon she might lie down,
And Jesus Christ has given him
An everlasting crown.

Unlock the door this evening

And let your gate swing wide,
Let all who ask for shelter
Come speedily inside.

What if your yard be narrow?

What if your house be small?

There is a Guest is coming
Will glorify it all.

There was a joyous hostler

Who knelt on Christmas morn

Beside the radiant manger

Wherein his Lord was born.
His heart was full of laughter,
His soul was full of bliss
When Jesus, on His Mother's lap,
Gave him His hand to kiss.

Unbar your heart this evening
And keep no stranger out,
Take from your soul's great portal

The barrier of doubt.

To humble folk and weary

Give hearty welcoming,

Your breast shall be to-morrow

The cradle of a King.

Joyce Kilmer [1886

THE THREE KINGS

THREE Kings came riding from far away,
Melchior and Gaspar and Baltasar;

Three Wise Men out of the East were they,
And they travelled by night and they slept by day,
For their guide was a beautiful, wonderful star,

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