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!

--_Eugene Field_.

* * * * *

=Bells Across the Snow.=

(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."

--_F.R. Havergal_.

* * * * *

=Christmas Eve.=

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