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.

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

When Christmas bells are swinging above the fields of snow, we hear sweet voices ringing from lands of long ago, read more

When Christmas bells are swinging above the fields of snow, we hear sweet voices ringing from lands of long ago, and etched on vacant places are half-forgotten faces of friends we used to cherish, and loves we used to know.

As many mince pies as you taste at Christmas' so many happy
months will you have.

As many mince pies as you taste at Christmas' so many happy
months will you have.

God rest ye, little children; let nothing you affright,
For Jesus Christ, your Saviour, was born this happy night;
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God rest ye, little children; let nothing you affright,
For Jesus Christ, your Saviour, was born this happy night;
Along the hills of Galilee the white flocks sleeping lay,
When Christ, the Child of Nazareth, was born on Christmas Day.

The time draws near the birth of Christ:
The moon is hid; the night is still;
The read more

The time draws near the birth of Christ:
The moon is hid; the night is still;
The Christmas bells from hill to hill
Answer each other in the mist.

Christmas is here:
Winds whistle shrill,
Icy and chill,
Little care we:
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Christmas is here:
Winds whistle shrill,
Icy and chill,
Little care we:
Little we fear
Weather without,
Sheltered about
The Mahogany-Tree.

The mistletoe hung in the castle hall,
The holly branch shone on the old oak wall.

The mistletoe hung in the castle hall,
The holly branch shone on the old oak wall.

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.