and victory,
Rising and falling as on angel wings,
   They, while they seem to roam,
   Draw daily nearer home,
Their heart untravell’d still adores the King of kings.

   Or, if at home they stay,
   Yet are they, day by day,
In spirit journeying through the glorious land,
   Not for light Fancy’s reed,
   Nor Honour’s purple meed,
Nor gifted Prophet’s lore, nor Science’ wondrous wand.

   But more than Prophet, more
   Than Angels can adore
With face unveiled, is He they go to seek:
   Blessèd be God, Whose grace
   Shows Him in every place
To homeliest hearts of pilgrims pure and meek.

Fourth Sunday in Advent.

The eyes of them that see shall not be dim, and the ears of them that hear shall hearken.  Isaiah xxxii. 3

Of the bright things in earth and air
   How little can the heart embrace!
Soft shades and gleaming lights are there—
   I know it well, but cannot trace.

Mine eye unworthy seems to read
   One page of Nature’s beauteous book;
It lies before me, fair outspread—
   I only cast a wishful look.

I cannot paint to Memory’s eye
   The scene, the glance, I dearest love—
Unchanged themselves, in me they die,
   Or faint or false their shadows prove.

In vain, with dull and tuneless ear,
   I linger by soft Music’s cell,
And in my heart of hearts would hear
   What to her own she deigns to tell.

’Tis misty all, both sight and sound—
   I only know ’tis fair and sweet—
’Tis wandering on enchanted ground
   With dizzy brow and tottering feet.

But patience! there may come a time
   When these dull ears shall scan aright
Strains that outring Earth’s drowsy chime,
   As Heaven outshines the taper’s light.

These eyes, that dazzled now and weak,
   At glancing motes in sunshine wink.
Shall see the Kings full glory break,
   Nor from the blissful vision shrink:

In fearless love and hope uncloyed
   For ever on that ocean bright
Empowered to gaze; and undestroyed,
   Deeper and deeper plunge in light.

Though scarcely now their laggard glance
   Reach to an arrow’s flight, that day
They shall behold, and not in trance,
   The region “very far away.”

If Memory sometimes at our spell
   Refuse to speak, or speak amiss,
We shall not need her where we dwell
   Ever in sight of all our bliss.

Meanwhile, if over sea or sky
   Some tender lights unnoticed fleet,
Or on loved features dawn and die,
   Unread, to us, their lesson sweet;

Yet are there saddening sights around,
   Which Heaven, in mercy, spares us too,
And we see far in holy ground,
   If duly purged our mental view.

The distant landscape draws not nigh
   For all our gazing; but the soul,
That upward looks, may still descry
   Nearer, each day, the brightening goal.

And thou, too curious ear, that fain
   Wouldst thread the maze of Harmony,
Content thee with one simple strain,
   The lowlier, sure, the worthier thee;

Till thou art duly trained, and taught
   The concord sweet of Love divine:
Then, with that inward Music fraught,
   For ever rise, and sing, and shine.

Christmas Day.

And suddenly there was with the Angel a multitude of the heavenly host, praising God.  St. Luke ii. 13.

      What sudden blaze of song
         Spreads o’er th’ expanse of Heaven?
   In waves of light it thrills along,
         Th’ angelic signal given—
   “Glory to God!” from yonder central fire
Flows out the echoing lay beyond the starry choir;

      Like circles widening round
         Upon a clear blue river,
   Orb after orb, the wondrous sound
         Is echoed on for ever:
   “Glory to God on high, on earth be peace,
And love towards men of love—salvation and release.”

      Yet stay, before thou dare
         To join that festal throng;
   Listen and mark what gentle air
         First stirred the tide of song;
   ’Tis not, “the Saviour born in David’s home,
To Whom for power and health obedient worlds should come:”—

      ’Tis not, “the Christ the Lord:”
         With fixed adoring look
   The choir of Angels caught the word,
         Nor yet their silence broke:
   But when they heard the sign where Christ should be,
In sudden light they shone and heavenly harmony.

      Wrapped in His swaddling bands,
         And in His manger laid,
   The Hope and Glory of all lands
         Is come to the world’s aid:
   No peaceful home upon his cradle smiled,
Guests rudely went and came, where slept the royal Child.

      But where Thou dwellest, Lord,
         No other thought should be,
   Once duly welcomed and adored,
         How should I part with Thee?
   Bethlehem must lose Thee soon, but Thou wilt grace
The single heart to be Thy sure abiding-place.

      Thee, on the bosom laid
         Of a pure virgin mind,
   In quiet ever, and in shade,
         Shepherd and sage may find;
   They, who have bowed untaught to Nature’s sway,
And they, who follow Truth along her star-paved way.

      The pastoral spirits first
         Approach Thee, Babe divine,
   For they in lowly thoughts are nursed,
         Meet for Thy lowly shrine:
   Sooner than they should miss where Thou dost dwell,
Angela from Heaven will stoop to guide them to Thy cell.

      Still, as the day comes round
         For Thee to be revealed,
   By wakeful shepherds Thou art found,
         Abiding in the field.
   All through the wintry heaven and chill night air,
In music and in light Thou dawnest on their prayer.

      O faint not ye for fear—
         What though your wandering sheep,
   Reckless of what they see and hear,
         Lie lost in wilful sleep?
   High Heaven in mercy to your sad annoy
Still greets you with glad tidings of immortal joy.

      Think on th’ eternal home,
         The Saviour left for you;
   Think on the Lord most holy, come
         To dwell with hearts untrue:
   So shall ye tread untired His pastoral ways,
And in the darkness sing your carol of high praise.

St. Stephen’s Day.

He, being full of the Holy Ghost, looked up steadfastly into heaven, and saw the glory of God, and Jesus standing on the right hand of God.  Acts vii. 55

As rays around the source of light
Stream upward ere he glow in sight,
And watching by his future flight
   Set the clear heavens on fire;
So on the King of Martyrs wait
Three chosen bands, in royal