CHRISTMAS BELLS.
SWEET bells, are ye playing? I list at my door;
Yes, list to the music that charmed me of yore;
Ah, well I remember in life's early dawn,
Ye told the blest story, a Saviour was born.
Though still unawakened, I trembled with fear,
Aye, trembled while ye were entrancing my ear:
E'en now those bright pictures in joy seem to rise
While ringing your anthems this eve through the skies—
Yes, list to the music that charmed me of yore;
Ah, well I remember in life's early dawn,
Ye told the blest story, a Saviour was born.
Though still unawakened, I trembled with fear,
Aye, trembled while ye were entrancing my ear:
E'en now those bright pictures in joy seem to rise
While ringing your anthems this eve through the skies—
Those beautiful pictures in Bethlehem, where
The shepherds sat tenderly watching with care
Their flocks and their herds, on the hill-side and fold,
When the angels declared what the prophets foretold;
Wise men from the East, who travelled afar,
Led on by the light of that radiant star;
The cherubs descending with pinions unfurled,
Proclaiming the news to a sin-laden world.
The shepherds sat tenderly watching with care
Their flocks and their herds, on the hill-side and fold,
When the angels declared what the prophets foretold;
Wise men from the East, who travelled afar,
Led on by the light of that radiant star;
The cherubs descending with pinions unfurled,
Proclaiming the news to a sin-laden world.
O, well might the heavens the watchers amaze,
Beholding such scenes with their wondering gaze;
O, well might the sages who worshipping came,
Fall down on their knees and adoring exclaim—
"A babe in the manger, the herald was true,
A Saviour has come every heart to renew:"
And Mary His mother awaked from her dream,
What meekness and love from her countenance beam.
Beholding such scenes with their wondering gaze;
O, well might the sages who worshipping came,
Fall down on their knees and adoring exclaim—
"A babe in the manger, the herald was true,
A Saviour has come every heart to renew:"
And Mary His mother awaked from her dream,
What meekness and love from her countenance beam.
Afar in the temple, Simeon of old
Brought incense of myrrh in rich censers of gold,
Sublime were his words while saluting the Son—
O, let me depart, our salvation is won.
Sweet bells, ye are playing melodious chime,
What raptures to raise in this bosom of mine,
As all those bright pictures in joy seem to rise,
While ringing your anthems this eve through the skies.
Brought incense of myrrh in rich censers of gold,
Sublime were his words while saluting the Son—
O, let me depart, our salvation is won.
Sweet bells, ye are playing melodious chime,
What raptures to raise in this bosom of mine,
As all those bright pictures in joy seem to rise,
While ringing your anthems this eve through the skies.