With swathes of scented hay Thy bed By Mary's hand at eve was spread.

Sleep, baby, sleep!

At midnight came the shepherds, they Whom seraphs wakened by the way.

Sleep, baby, sleep!

And three kings from the East afar, Ere dawn came, guided by the star.

Sleep, baby, sleep!

They brought Thee gifts of gold and gems, Pure orient pearls, rich diadems.

Sleep, baby, sleep!

But Thou who liest slumbering there, Art King of Kings, earth, ocean, air.

Sleep, baby, sleep!

Sleep, baby, sleep! The shepherds sing: Through heaven, through earth, hosannas ring.

Sleep, baby, sleep!

John Addington Symonds.

_I Saw Three Ships_

I saw three ships come sailing in, On Christmas day, on Christmas day; I saw three ships come sailing in, On Christmas day in the morning.

Pray whither sailed those ships all three On Christmas day, on Christmas day?

Pray whither sailed those ships all three On Christmas day in the morning?

Oh, they sailed into Bethlehem On Christmas day, on Christmas day; Oh, they sailed into Bethlehem On Christmas day in the morning.

And all the bells on earth shall ring On Christmas day, on Christmas day; And all the bells on earth shall ring On Christmas day in the morning.

And all the angels in heaven shall sing On Christmas day, on Christmas day; And all the angels in heaven shall sing On Christmas day in the morning.

And all the souls on earth shall sing On Christmas day, on Christmas day; And all the souls on earth shall sing On Christmas day in the morning.

Old Carol.

_Santa Claus_

He comes in the night! He comes in the night!

He softly, silently comes; While the little brown heads on the pillows so white Are dreaming of bugles and drums.

He cuts through the snow like a ship through the foam, While the white flakes around him whirl; Who tells him I know not, but he findeth the home Of each good little boy and girl.

His sleigh it is long, and deep, and wide; It will carry a host of things, While dozens of drums hang over the side, With the sticks sticking under the strings.

And yet not the sound of a drum is heard, Not a bugle blast is blown, As he mounts to the chimney-top like a bird, And drops to the hearth like a stone.

The little red stockings he silently fills, Till the stockings will hold no more; The bright little sleds for the great snow hills Are quickly set down on the floor.

Then Santa Claus mounts to the roof like a bird, And glides to his seat in the sleigh; Not the sound of a bugle or drum is heard As he noiselessly gallops away.

He rides to the East, and he rides to the West, Of his goodies he touches not one; He eateth the crumbs of the Christmas feast When the dear little folks are done.

Old Santa Claus doeth all that he can; This beautiful mission is his; Then, children, be good to the little old man, When you find who the little man is.

Unknown.

_Neighbors of the Christ Night_

Deep in the shelter of the cave, The a.s.s with drooping head Stood weary in the shadow, where His master's hand had led.

About the manger oxen lay, Bending a wide-eyed gaze Upon the little new-born Babe, Half worship, half amaze.

High in the roof the doves were set, And cooed there, soft and mild, Yet not so sweet as, in the hay, The Mother to her Child.

The gentle cows breathed fragrant breath To keep Babe Jesus warm, While loud and clear, o'er hill and dale, The c.o.c.ks crowed, "Christ is born!"

Out in the fields, beneath the stars, The young lambs sleeping lay, And dreamed that in the manger slept Another, white as they.

These were Thy neighbors, Christmas Child; To Thee their love was given, For in Thy baby face there shone The wonder-light of Heaven.

Nora Archibald Smith.

_Cradle Hymn_

Away in a manger, no crib for a bed, The little Lord Jesus laid down his sweet head.

The stars in the bright sky looked down where he lay-- The little Lord Jesus asleep on the hay.

The cattle are lowing, the baby awakes, But little Lord Jesus, no crying he makes.

I love thee, Lord Jesus! look down from the sky, And stay by my cradle till morning is nigh.

Martin Luther.