A Song For Christmas

Chant me a rhyme of Christmas-- Sing me a jovial song,-- And though it is filled with laughter, Let it be pure and strong.

Let it be clear and ringing, And though it mirthful be, Let a low, sweet voice of pathos Run through the melody.

Sing of the hearts brimmed over With the story of the day-- Of the echo of childish voices That will not die away.--

Of the blare of the tasselled bugle, And the timeless clatter and beat Of the drum that throbs to muster Squadrons of scampering feet.--

Of the wide-eyed look of wonder, And the gurgle of baby-glee, As the infant hero wrestles From the smiling father's knee.

Sing the delights unbounded Of the home unknown of care, Where wealth as a guest abideth, And want is a stranger there.

But O let your voice fall fainter, Till, blent with a minor tone, You temper your song with the beauty Of the pity Christ hath shown:

And sing one verse for the voiceless; And yet, ere the song be done, A verse for the ears that hear not, And a verse for the sightless one:

And one for the outcast mother, And one for the sin-defiled And hopeless sick man dying, And one for his starving child.

For though it be time for singing A merry Christmas glee, Let a low, sweet voice of pathos Run through the melody.