Classic Poem

Bright heavenly guide that truly led
The wise men from the east afar,
And paused above the manger-bed
While angels smiled through doors ajar —
Be thou our guiding star!

O Yule-log, weaving mystic gleams
And shadows on the haunted floor,
Show us how through thy fervor streams
The charity that, lit of yore,
Glows kindlier evermore.

Amid the holly's glossy green,
Or where the alder decks each bud,
The ruby berries, thickly seen,
Shall typify that precious flood —
His freely given blood.

And oh, sweet Child! the flower of love!
Creation's crown! still gently win
Our hearts and souls to realms above,
Afar from touch of soiling sin,
Till we shall " enter in. "