The Birth of Jesus

; The Birth of Jesus By Orson F. Whitney A stranger star that came from far To fling its silver ray, Where, cradled in a lowly cave, A lowlier infant lay; And led by soft sidereal light, The orient sages bring Rare gifts of gold and frankincense, To greet the homeless King. O wondrous grace! Will gods go down Thus low that men may rise? Imprisoned here the Mighty One, Who reigned in yonder skies? Hark to that chime ! —What tongue sublime Now tells the hour of noon? O dying world ! art welcoming Life's life —Light's sun and moon? Proclaim Him, prophet harbinger! Make plain the Mightier's way, Thou sharer of His martyrdom! Elias? Yea and Nay. The crescent moon, that knew the Sun, Ere stars had learned to shine; The waning moon, that bathed in blood, Ere sank the Sun divine. —— "Glory to God! good will to man! Peace, peace!" triumphal tone. "Why peace?" Is discord then no more? Are earth and heaven as one? Peace to the soul that serveth Him, The Monarch manger-born; There, ruler of unnumbered realms Here, throneless and forlorn. — — Elias An Epic of the Ages.