A Merry Christmas Eve

A Merry Christmas Eve. 

by Charles Kingsley

It chanced upon the merry, merry Christmas eve

I went sighing past the church across the moorland

dreary:

" Oh ! never sin and want and woe this earth will leave,

And the bells but mock the wailing round, they sing

so cheery.

How long, O Lord ! how long before Thou come again ?

Still in cellar, and in garret, and on moorland dreary

The orphans moan, and widows weep, and poor men

toil in vain,

Till earth is full of hope deferred, though Christmas

bells be cheery."

Then arose a joyous clamor from the wild fowl on the

mere,

Beneath the stars, across the snow, like clear bells

ringing,

And a voice within cried : " Listen ! — Christmas carols

even here !

Though thou be dumb, yet o'er their work the stars

and snows are singing.

Blind ! I live, I love, I reign ; and all the nations through

With the thunder of my judgments even now are

ringing ;

Do thou fulfill thy work, but as yon wild fowl do,

Thou wilt hear no less the wailing, yet hear through it

angels singing."

The Christmas Stocking

The Christmas Stocking.

Clarence H. Pearson

In the ghostly light I'm sitting, musing of long dead

Decembers,

While the fire-clad shapes are flitting in and out among

the embers

On my hearthstone in mad races, and I marvel, for in

seeming

I can dimly see the faces and the scenes of which I'm

dreaming.

O golden Christmas days of yore !

In sweet anticipation

I lived their joys for days before

Their glorious realization;

And on the dawn

Of Christmas morn

My childish heart was knocking

A wild tattoo,

As 'twould break through,

As I unhung my stocking. 

Each simple gift that came to hand,

How marvelous I thought it !

A treasure straight from wonderland,

For Santa Claus had brought it.

And at my cries

Of glad surprise

The others all came flocking

To share my glee

And view with me

The contents of the stocking

Years sped -- I left each well-loved scene

In Northern wilds to roam,

And there, 'mid tossing pine-trees green,

I made myself a home.

We numbered three

And blithe were we,

At adverse fortune mocking,

And Christmas-tide

By our fireside

Found hung the baby's stocking.

Alas! within our home to-night

No sweet young voice is ringing,

. And through its silent rooms no light,

Free, childish step is springing.

The wild winds rave

O'er baby's grave

Where plumy pines are rocking

And crossed at rest

On marble breast

The hands that filled my stocking

With misty eyes but steady hand

I raise my Christmas chalice;

Here's to the children of the land

In cabin or in palace;

May each one hold

The key of gold,

The gates of glee unlocking,

And hands be found

The whole world round

To fill the Christmas stocking

Christmas Hymn

Christmas Hymn.
by Eugene Field

(During this recitation let the piano be played very softly in running chords that resolve into the key of a Christmas carol which is taken up and sung by the entire school at the end of the poem.)

Sing, Christmas bells!

Say to the earth this is the morn

Whereon our Savior-King is born;

Sing to all men -- the bond, the free,

The rich, the poor, the high, the low,

The little child that sports in glee,

The aged folk that tottering go,--

Proclaim the morn

That Christ is born,

That saveth them and saveth me!

Sing angel host !

Sing of the stars that God has placed

Above the manger in the east.

Sing of the glories of the night,

The Virgin's sweet humility,

The Babe with kingly robes bedight, ‚--

Sing to all men where'er they be

This Christmas morn

For Christ is born,

That saveth them and saveth me !

Bells Across the Snow

Bells Across the Snow. 

by F. R. Havergal

(This poem may be recited by one pupil, or divided as follows :)

First pupil: Christmas, merry Christmas !

Is it really come again ?

With its memories and greetings,

With its joys and with its pain ;

There s a minor in the carol,

And a shadow in the light,

And a spray of cypress twining

With the holly wreath to-night.

And the hush is never broken

By laughter, light and low,

As we listen in the starlight

To the " bells across the snow."

Second pupil: Christmas, merry Christmas !

'Tis not so very long

Since other voices blended

With the carol and the song !

If we could but hear them singing

As they are singing now,

If we could but see the radiance

Of the crown on each dear brow ;

There would be no sigh to smother,

No hidden tear to flow,

As we listen in the starlight

To the '" bells across the snow." 

Third pupil: O Christmas, merry Christmas!

This never more can be;

We cannot bring again the days

Of our unshadowed glee.

But Christmas, happy Christmas,

Sweet herald of good will,

With holy songs of glory,

Brings holy gladness still.

For peace and hope may brighten,

And patient love may glow,

As we listen in the starlight

To the "bells across the snow."

Christmas Eve

Christmas Eve. 

by Frank E. Broun

Outside my window whirls the icy storm,

And beats upon its panes with fingers white;

Within, my open fire burns bright and warm,

And sends throughout the room its ruddy light.

Low on the hearth my good grimalkin lies,

His supple, glossy limbs outstretched along;

Now gently sleeps with softly closed eyes,

Now, half awakened, purrs his even-song.

Near to the fire, touched by its gentle heat,

A silent, welcome friend, my armchair stands.

Its cushioned depths invite me to its seat,

And promise rest for weary head and hands.

Within its depths mine eyes unheeded close,

And comes to me a vision wondrous sweet.

Such sights and sounds no wakeful hours disclose

As then my resting, dreaming senses greet.

I am where gentle shepherds on the plain

Keep sleepless, faithful watch o'er resting sheep;

I hear them chant the Psalmist's sweet refrain,

That Israel's God will sure his promise keep.

Then quick the air is full of heav'nly song,

And radiant light illumines all the ground,

While angel voices sweet the strain prolong,

And angel faces shine in glory round.

I see the shepherds' faces pale with fear,

Then glow with joy and glad surprise, for then

" Glory to God ! " from angel lips they hear,

Ana " Peace on earth good will to men."

And then the light marks out a shining way,

And swift the shepherds are the path to take.

I long to go O laggard feet, why stay?

Alas ! the vision fades, and I awake.

Within, the smold'ring fire is burning dim;

Without, the whirl and beat of storm have ceased.

I still can hear the angels' peaceful hymn,

And know the vision hath my peace increased.

The Little Christmas Tree

The Little Christmas Tree

by Susan Coolidge

The Christmas day was coming, the Christmas eve drew 

near,

The fir-trees they were talking low at midnight cold and

clear

And this is what the fir-trees said, all in the pale moon-

light,

"Now which of us shall chosen be to grace the holy

night?

The tall trees and the goodly trees raised each a lofty 

head.

In glad and secret confidence, though not a word they 

said

But one, the baby of the band, could not restrain a sigh--

"You all will be approved," he said, "but oh! what

chance have I?"

Then axe on shoulder, to the grove a woodman took his

way.

One baby-girl he had at home, and he went forth to find

A little tree as small as she, just suited to his mind.

Oh, glad and proud the baby-fir, amid its brethren tall,

To be thus chosen and singled out, the first among them

all !

He stretched his fragrant branches, his little heart beat

fast,

He was a real Christmas tree ; he had his wish at last.

One large and shining apple with cheeks of ruddy gold,

Six tapers, and a tiny doll were all that he could hold.

" I am so small, so very small, no one will mark or know

How thick and green my needles are, how true my

branches grow ;

Few toys and candles could I hold, but heart and will

are free,

And in my heart of hearts I know I am a Christmas

tree."

The Christmas angel hovered near; he caught the

grieving word,

And, laughing low, he hurried forth, with love and pity

stirred.

He sought and found St Nicholas, the dear old Christ-

mas saint,

And in his fatherly kind ear rehearsed the fir-tree's

plaint.

Saints are all-powerful, we know, so it befell that day,

The baby laughed, the baby crowed, to see the tapers

bright;

The forest baby felt the joy, and shared in the delight.

And when at last the tapers died, and when the baby

slept,

The little fir in silent night a patient vigil kept;

Though scorched and brown its needles were, it had no

heart to grieve.

"I have not lived in vain," he said ; "thank God for

Christmas eve!"

The Russian Santa Claus

The Russian Santa Claus.

By Lizzie M. Hadley.

Over the Russian snows one day,

Upon the eve of a Christmas day,

While still in the heavens shone afar,

Like a spark of fire, that wondrous star,

Three kings with jewels and gold bedight

Came journeying on through the wintry night.

Out of the East they rode amain,

With servants and camels in their train.

Laden with spices, myrrh, and gold,

Gems and jewels of worth untold,

Presents such as to-day men bring,

To lay at the feet of some Eastern king.

Wrinkled and feeble, old and gray,

Dame Babousca, that Christmas day,

Looked from her hut beside the moor,

Where the four roads crossed by her cottage door,

And saw the kings on their camels white,

A shadowy train in the wintry night.

They knocked at her cabin door to tell

That wonderful story we know so well,

Of the star that was guiding them all the way

To the place where the little Christ-Child lay,

And they begged that she, through the sleet and snow,

To the nearest village with them would go.

But naught cared she for that unknown Child,

And winds about her blew fierce and wild,

For the night was stormy, dark, and cold,

And poor Babousca was weak and old,

And in place of the pitiless winter's night,

Her lowly hut seemed a palace bright.

So to their pleadings she answered " Nay,"

And watched them all as they rode away

But when they had gone and the night was still,

Her hut seemed lonely, and dark, and chill,

And she almost wished she had followed them

In search of the Babe of Bethlehem.

And then as the longing stronger grew,

She said, "I will find Him," but no one knew,

Where was the cradle in which He lay

When He came to earth upon Christmas day,

For the kings and their trains were long since gone,

And none could tell of the Babe, new born.

Then filling a basket with toys, she said,

As over the wintry moor she sped,

"I will go to the busy haunts of men,

There I shall find the kings, and then,

Together we'll go that Child to meet,

And jewels and toys we'll lay at His feet.

The kings with their trains have long been clay,

The hut on the moor has mouldered away,

But old and feeble, worn and gray,

Every year upon Christmas day,

It matters not though the winds blow chill,

Old Babousca is seeking still.

And every year when the joy-bells chime,

To tell of the blessed Christmas time,

When in Holland they tell to the girls and boys,

Of good Saint Nicholas and his toys,

In Russia, the little children say,

" Old Babousca has passed this way."

A Christmas Garden

A Christmas Garden.

(A prose recitation, or suggestion for composition.)

       There is a story told of a magician who conjured up a garden in the winter time. The wand of the wizard, however, is not necessary to dislose even in a northern climate in the cold months the beautiful contents of Nature's world. The varieties of evergreen, pine, hemlock, fir, cedar, and larch provide a variety of green foliage through the dreary-weather. The rich, clustering berries, besides their ornamental character, furnish food for the snowbirds. The Christmas rose, wax-like in its white purity, will bloom out of doors long after frost if a glass is turned over the plant on cold nights. The ivy remains glossy, its green berry another addition to our winter bouquet.

       Farther south, but still within our United States, the scarlet holly grows in luxuriance. So full of holiday association is this tree that its branches are carefully transported a thousand miles for use during Christmas week. Its crisp leaves, lively color, and happy sentiment make the holly, pre-eminent as a winter ornament, prince in our Christmas garden.

       A contrast is furnished by the delicate sprays of the mistletoe growing upon the limbs of the oak,

elm, and apple trees. The white berry attaches itself, curiously enough, without roots of any kind, and becomes an enduring plant.

A Christmas Carol

A Christmas Carol.

by J. R. Lowell

"What means this glory round our feet?"

The Magi mused, "more bright than morn?"

And voices chanted clear and sweet,

" To-day the Prince of Peace is born!"

"What means that star?" the shepherd said,

"That brightens through the rocky glen ?"

And angels answering overhead,

Sang, "Peace on earth, good will to men!"

'Tis eighteen hundred years and more

Since those sweet oracles were dumb;

We wait for Him, like them of yore;

Alas, He seems so slow to come!

But it was said, in words of gold,

No time or sorrow e'er shall dim,

That little children might be bold

In perfect trust to come to Him.

All round about our feet shall shine

A light like that the wise men saw,

If we our loving wills incline

To that sweet Life which is the Law.

So shall we learn to understand

The simple faith of shepherds then,

And clasping kindly hand in hand,

Sing, "Peace on earth, good will to men!"

And they who do their souls no wrong,

But keep at eve the faith of morn,

Shall daily hear the angel-song,

"To-day the Prince of Peace is born!"

Old English Christmases

Old English Christmases.

       The court celebrations of Christmas were observed with great splendor during the reign of King Charles the First. The royal family, with the lords and ladies, often took part themselves in the performances, and the cost to prepare costumes and sceneries for one occasion often amounted to ten thousand dollars. During Charles's reign, and preceding his, Ben Jonson wrote the plays, or masques, for Christmas. The court doings were, of course, copied outside by the people, and up to the twelfth night after Christmas, sports and feastings held high carnival.

       So important were these Christmas court celebrations held by our ancestors, and of such moment were the preparations, that a special officer was appointed to take them in charge. To him were accorded large privileges, very considerable appointments, and a retinue equal to a prince's, counting in a chancellor, treasurer, comptroller, vice-chamberlain, divine, philosopher, astronomer, poet, physician, master of requests, clown, civilian, ushers, pages, footmen, messengers, jugglers, herald, orator, hunters, tumblers, friar, and fools. Over this mock court the mock monarch presided during the holidays with a reign as absolute as the actual monarch.

The Power of Christmas

The Power of Christmas.

       Even under the pressure of battle the influence of the Christmas season has exerted a powerful effect. In 1428, during the war of the roses, while Orleans was under siege, the English lords, history tells us, requested the French commanders to suspend hostilities, and let the usual celebration of Christmas eye take their place. This was agreed to, and the air was filled with the song of the minstrels and the music of trumpets, instead of the discordant sounds of battle.

The Christmas Tree

The Christmas Tree.

(Recitation for a boy to give before a Christmas tree is dismantled.)

Of all the trees in the woods and fields

There's none like the Christmas tree;

Tho' rich and rare is the fruit he yields,

The strangest of trees is he.

Some drink their fill from the shower or rill;

No cooling draught needs he;

Some bend and break when the storms awake,

But they reach not the Christmas tree.

When wintry winds thro' the forests sweep,

And snow robes the leafless limb;

When cold and still is the ice-bound deep,

O this is the time for him.

Beneath the dome of the sunny home,

He stands with all his charms;

'Mid laugh and song from the youthful throng,

As they gaze on his fruitful arms.

There's golden fruit on the Christmas tree,

And gems for the fair and gay;

The lettered page for the mind bears he,

And robes for the wintry day.

And there are toys for the girls and boys;

And eyes that years bedim

Grow strangely bright, with a youthful light,

As they pluck from the pendant limb.

Peace on Earth

Peace on Earth.

by S. T. Coleridge

(Recitation for a high-school pupil.)

The shepherds went their hasty way,

And found the lowly stable shed

Where the Virgin-Mother lay;

And now they checked their eager tread,

For to the Babe that at her bosom clung

A mother's song the Virgin-Mother sung.

They told her how a glorious light,

Streaming from a heavenly throng,

Around them shone suspending night,

While, sweeter than a mother's song,

Blest angels heralded the Savior's birth,

Glory to God on high and Peace on Earth.

She listened to the tale divine,

And closer still the Babe she prest;

And while she cried, The Babe is mine!

The milk rushed faster to her breast;

Joy rose within her like a summer's morn;

Peace, Peace on Earth ! the Prince of Peace is born

Thou Mother of the. Prince of Peace,

Poor, simple, and of low estate !

That strife should vanish, battle cease,

O why should this thy soul elate?

Sweet music's loudest note, the poet' story --

Didst thou ne'er love to hear of fame and glory?

And is not War a youthful king,

A stately hero clad in mail?

Beneath his footsteps laurels spring;

Him Earth's majestic monarch's hail

Their friend, their playmate! and his bold bright eye

Compels the maiden's love-confessing sigh.

" Tell this in some more courtly scene,

To maids and youths in robes of state!

I am a woman poor and mean,

And therefore is my soul elate.

War is a ruffian, all with guilt denied,

That from the aged father tears his child!

"A murderous fiend, by fiends adored,

He kills the sire and starves the son;

The husband kills, and from her hoard

Steals all his widow's toil had won;

Plunders God's world of beauty ; rends away

All safety from the night, all comfort from the day.

"Then wisely is my soul elate,

That strife should vanish, battle cease;

I'm poor and of a low estate,

The Mother of the Prince of Peace.

Joy rises in me like a summer's morn;

Peace, Peace on Earth ! the Prince of Peace is born."

A Letter from Santa Claus

A Letter from Santa Claus.

By William Howard.

(A little girl is seated with her notebook and pencil. A postman's whistle is heard, and she exclaims, " There is the postman!" She runs to the door and returns with a large envelope, made of white wrapping-paper sealed with red wax, which she tears open, announces it is written by Santa Claus to the pupils of the school, and then reads it aloud. In the last verse the names of the children present are to be substituted for the printed ones.)

Merry Christmas! little children,

From my home so far away

Send I loving Christmas greetings

To you on your holiday.

You may watch and wait till midnight,

Looking at the falling snow,

But be sure you won't discover

When I come or when I go.

For I come when all is silent,

Not a breath will then be heard,

And I softly through the chimney

Enter, saying not a word.

Quickly to the stockings step I,

And I place in every one

Something for the Christmas frolic,

Something for the Christmas fun.

Hark ! my reindeer out the window,

Prance and shake a warning note;

Santa Claus will speed away then,

Wrapping close his cap and coat.

Your surprise, when comes the morning,

Gladness which your bright eyes tell,

Grateful, merry, happy children,

Pleases Santa Claus full well.

Willie, Alice, Harry, Mary,

Christmas greetings now I send.

Cora, Freddie, Sadie, Johnnie,

Don't forget Santa Claus, your friend.

The Mousie

The Mousie.

By M. N. B.

(A very small primary boy may recite these lines.)

A mousie got into a great Christmas pie,

Two little boys heard him, and then they did cry,

" O mousie ! O mousie ! come quickly away!

That pie is not for you, 'tis for our Christmas day. 

 

A Message

A Message.

By Ella M. Powers.

(For three primary children to recite.)

First pupil: One true thing I have to say,

Clap your hands now, for you may,

It's very happy, very dear,

This Christmas day will soon be here

But children learn to understand,

That loyal heart and loving hand,

Can pray, " Oh, Saviour, so divine,

Make our lives so much like thine.'

Second pupil: Yes, far away that Christmas night,

A star above the Christ shone bright,

And led the shepherds from afar

To seek that bright and glorious star.

Third pupil: The shepherds came with presents rare

And knelt with tender love and care,

Before that child so sweet and true,

And loved Him as we all should do;

And that grand song we hear again,

"Peace on earth -- good will to men."

Kriss Kringle

Kriss Kringle.

By Susie M. Best.

If there's any one here who ever has seen

The face of Kriss Kringle, I'll think he is mean

If he is not willing at once to arise

And tell the real color and shape of his eyes!

Somehow I much doubt if the gentleman looks

Like the pictures we see in the shops and the books.

I've a sort of a notion we'd all be surprised

If we suddenly saw him, by day, undisguised!

Is he big, is he little, is he young, is he old?

There are some things, I know, that can't always be told.

But I'd much like to know why it is he must keep

Himself hidden securely till we are asleep 

I've made up my mind that I'm going to watch,

And see if I cannot by any means catch

One glimpse of his face as he comes down the flue,

And if I succeed I'll describe him to you!

My Christmas Secrets

My Christmas Secrets.

By S. C. Peabody.

Hurry Christmas ! How you creep !

I've some presents I can't keep,

Just this morning I forgot,

And told baby what I'd bought.

All he answered was, "Goo goo!"

So I don't think that he knew,

I told mamma hers was white,

And she'd wear it every night.

That she'd need it getting tea.

Then my mamma smiled at me,

And she whispered, "Isn't May

Letting secrets fly away"

Christmas Morn

Christmas Morn.

By M. N. B.

(Recitation and chorus. A semi-circle of primary children is formed on he stage. They sing first verse of the familiar church tune, "Joy to the world.")

Chorus. -- Joy to the world, the Lord has come,

Let earth receive her King,

Let every heart prepare him room,

And heaven and nature sing.

Recitation (one child steps forward). --

In Bethlehem, the story goes,

A little Child was born,

Low in a manger He was laid

The first glad Christmas morn.

That Child is now our Savior King,

Of Him we sing to-day;

And may glad bells o'er all the earth

Ring out a gladsome lay.

Chorus. -- Joy to the world, a Savior reigns,

Let men their tongues employ,

While fields and floods, rocks, hills, and vales

Repeat the sounding joy.

Christmas Wishes

Christmas Wishes.

By C. Phillips.

(These couplets may be given by three primary children to open a Christmas program.)

First child:

Dear teachers and friends, allow me to say

That we wish you a very glad Christmas day.

Second child:

That our darling old " Santa," as sly as a fox,

May leave at your door both bundle and box.

Third child:

And that beautiful gifts for one and for all

From the evergreen boughs may happily fall!