I am not alone at all, I thought. I was never alone at all. And that, of course, is the read more

I am not alone at all, I thought. I was never alone at all. And that, of course, is the message of Christmas. We are never alone. Not when the night is darkest, the wind coldest, the world seemingly most indifferent. For this is still the time God chooses.

Shepherds at the grange,
Where the Babe was born,
Sang with many a change,
read more

Shepherds at the grange,
Where the Babe was born,
Sang with many a change,
Christmas carols until morn.

And the Baron's retainers were blithe and gay,
And keeping their Christmas holiday.

And the Baron's retainers were blithe and gay,
And keeping their Christmas holiday.

"What means this glory round our feet,"
The Magi mused, "more bright than morn!"
And voices chanted read more

"What means this glory round our feet,"
The Magi mused, "more bright than morn!"
And voices chanted clear and sweet,
"To-day the Prince of Peace is born."

It was the calm and silent night!
Seven hundred years and fifty-three
Had Rome been growing up read more

It was the calm and silent night!
Seven hundred years and fifty-three
Had Rome been growing up to might
And now was queen of land and sea.
No sound was heard of clashing wars,
Peace brooded o'er the hushed domain;
Apollo, Pallas, Jove and Mars,
Held undisturbed their ancient reign,
In the solemn midnight,
Centuries ago.

I heard the bells on Christmas Day
Their old, familiar carols play,
And wild and sweet
read more

I heard the bells on Christmas Day
Their old, familiar carols play,
And wild and sweet
The words repeat
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

There's nothing sadder in this world than to awake Christmas morning and not be a child.

There's nothing sadder in this world than to awake Christmas morning and not be a child.

This is the month, and this the happy morn,
Wherein the Son of Heaven's eternal King,
Of read more

This is the month, and this the happy morn,
Wherein the Son of Heaven's eternal King,
Of wedded maid and virgin mother born,
Our great redemption from above did bring,
For so the holy sages once did sing,
That He our deadly forfeit should release,
And with His Father work us a perpetual peace.

At Christmas I no more desire a rose,
Than wish a snow in May's new-fangled shows;
But read more

At Christmas I no more desire a rose,
Than wish a snow in May's new-fangled shows;
But like of each thing that in season grows.