A Christmas Thought

A Christmas Thought.

by Lucy Larcom

(To be recited with carefu regard to smoothness, without a sing-song effect. )

Oh Christmas is coming again, you say,

And you long fcr the thing; he is bringing;

But the costliest gift may not gladden the day,

Nor help on the merry bells ringing

Some getting is losing, you understand,

Some hoarding is far from saving;

What you hold in your hand may slip from your hand;

There is something better than having;

We are richer for what we give;

And only by giving we live.

Your last year's presents are scattered and gone;

You have almost forgot who gave them;

But the loving thoughts you bestow live on

As long as you choose to have them.

Love, love is your riches, though ever so poor;

No money can buy that treasure;

Yours always, from robber and rust secure,

Your own, without stint or measure:

It is only love that we can give;

It is only by loving we live.

For who is it smiles through the Christmas morn --

The Light of the wide creation?

A dear little Child in a stable born,

Whose love is the world's salvation.

He was poor on earth, but He gave us all

That can make our life worth the living;

And happy the Christmas day we call

That is spent, for His sake, in giving:

He shows us the way to live,

Like Him. let us love and give!

The Christmas We Like

The Christmas We Like.

By Ella M. Powers.

(A recitation for two primary children.)

First pupil: Just a little stocking,

Very small indeed,

Hang it by the chimney,

Santa Claus will heed.

Then on Christmas morning

I will run and see

All the lovely presents

He has left for me.

Second pupil: I never think that Christmas

Is quite so full of joy,

Unless I find a poor child

And give her a nice toy.

For don't you know at Christmas

We must be happy then,

And love to do for others

As Christ did to all men.

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.