Classic Poem

Shepherds, wake, 'tis Christmas tide!
(Over the snow the bleak winds blow!)
Follow, with yonder Star for guide,
On Christmas day in the morning.

‘The way is dark, the way is long,
We cheer the way with a blithsome sang.

‘Thro' the vailey and over the hill,—
Hush, now hush, for the Star stands still!

‘It stands so still and it shines so clear—
This is the place! Our Lord is here!’

Ye who have gifts, your gifts unfold—
Word of Lehanon, gems, and gold.

Kneel, and shrive ye of your sin—
Then lift the latch, and enter in. . . . .

Alack, why stand ye weeping there! . . . .
‘The fire is out, and the hearth is bare!

‘Far have we wander'd thro' wintry gloom—
To seek His cradle, and in! His tomb!

‘Still overhead the Star shines clear,
But only the dust of the dead lies here:

‘Ashes and dust in a frozen shroud,
Wherefore we wonder and weep aloud!

‘Here He was born who long since died
(Over the snow the black winds blow!)
Dark is the field this wintertide
On Christmas day in the morning.’