Mrs. L. B. Curtis

Mary A. Barr

E. J. Richmond

AMONG THE POETS.

The Angels' Search.

HEARD the glorious multitude, I saw their lights afar,

As, mounting up the golden stairs, they passed from star to

star;

Each robed in snowy whiteness, all crowned with sunless light,
They swept athwart the ether, in the still and solemn night.

I saw the trail of glory-a glowing pathway laid,

As the vision, hasting onward, a golden splendor made.
Each angel drooped his pinion, a palm enfolded each,
But from those forms celestial came neither voice nor speech.

Each wore the air of one who, going forth to find,
Intently gazeth forward, forgetting things behind;
Each bore the air of one who knows that not in vain
Are bent his footsteps onward-he shall return again!

Lo! 'tis a shout triumphant, afar that shout is raised:
"We have found the King Messiah-God's holy name be praised!
Behold his star appeareth, outshining with its ray,
All other orbs of heaven in its brightness melt away"

Then swift along the golden line a burst of music thrills,
Till night awakes in wonder, and earth with gladness fills.
The heavenly host descending, where glory opens wide,
In rapt, adoring wonder, proclaims-our Christmas-tide.

I saw the glorious multitude, their light shone out afar,

As, passing down those shining stairs, they swept from star to star; Till guided by that herald light, and following where it led,

They knelt before a manger, around an infant's bed.

"The mystery of godliness!" Royal David's son behold!
In hushed and solemn silence their snowy wings they fold;
They see no cradle lowly, no weeping weakness there,

But Deity incarnate, content our flesh to wear.

Then from those lips angelic breaks forth that song of praise
Whose echoes still float o'er us, in these our Christmas days:
"The Lord is come with man to dwell, is come in very deed!"
Awake, my heart; take up the song, the joyful message speed.
"To us this day a child is born, to us a son is given."
O weeping Mary, cease to weep, be thine the joy of heaven!
For God's good gift to us to-day, His well-loved, only Son,
Brings peace to earth, good-will to man, and joy to every one!

Though from the cradle looms the cross, though tears through gladness shine,

Yet far beyond, all radiant, all crowned with love divine,
Redemption stands omnipotent, and waits to see the end,

When Peace embraceth Righteousness, and Truth and Mercy blend!

Christmas Night.

T last thou art come, little Saviour!

And thine angels fill midnight with song;

Thou art come to us, gentle Creator!

Whom thy creatures have sighed for so long.

Thou art come to thy beautiful Mother;

She hath looked on thy marvelous fare;
Thou art come to us, Maker of Mary!
And she was thy channel of grace.

Thou hast brought with thee plentiful pardon,
And our souls overflow with delight;
Our hearts are half broken, dear Jesus!

With the joy of this wonderful night.

We have waited so long for thee, Saviour!
Art thou come to us, dearest, at last?

Oh, bless thee, dear Joy of thy Mother!
This is worth all the wearisome past!

Thou art come, thou art come, Child of Mary!
Yet we hardly believe thou art come;-
It seems such a wonder to have thee,

New Brother! with us in our home.

Thou wilt stay with us, Master and Maker!
Thou wilt stay with us now evermore:
We will play with thee, beautiful Brother!
On Eternity's jubilant shore.

The Birth of the Year.

ET us speak low-the infant is asleep;

The frosty hills grow sharp, the day is near,
And Phosphor with his taper comes to peep
Into the cradle of the new-born year.
Hush! the infant is asleep-

Monarch of the day and night;

Whisper-yet it is not light,

The infant is asleep.

Those arms shall crush great serpents ere to-morrow;
His closed eye shall wake to laugh and weep;
His lips shall curl with mirth and writhe with sorrow
And charm up Truth and Beauty from the deep.
Softly-softly let us keep

Our vigils; visions cross his rest,

Prophetic pulses stir his breast,
Although he be asleep.

Now, Life and Death armed in his presence wait;
Genii with lamps are standing at the door;

Oh, he shall sing sweet songs, he shall relate
Wonder, and glory, and hopes untold before;
Murmur melodies that may creep

Into his ears of old sublime;

Let the youngest born of Time
Hear music in his sleep.