The Very First Christmas Preview

The Very First Christmas
Nativity Story of Jesus Christ With Verses From the
Holy Bible, Christmas Carols, Hymns, Prayers, Poems,
and Beautiful Ancient Pictures
By Janet Giessl
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Text and Picture copyright ©Janet Giessl 2019 All rights reserved
Cover design created by Janet Giessl
Editing by Janet Giessl
This work including its parts is copyright protected. Any use without the written
consent of the author is prohibited. This applies in particular to the electronic or
other reproduction, translation, distribution and public access.
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The author and publisher reserve the right to make changes in future editions of this
publication which they consider necessary to ensure the accuracy of this publication.
The reader takes the full responsibility for the use of the information within this
publication.
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About This Book
This book retells the Nativity Story of Jesus Christ with Verses
from the Gospel of Luke and Matthew in the King James Version
of the Holy Bible, Christmas hymns, carols, prayers, poems,
coloring pages, journal pages, and beautiful ancient pictures.
This book is ideal for children ages 4 to 7 but also for all who love
to read and learn about the Biblical Nativity Story of Jesus Christ.
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La Anunciación,1660, Bartolomé Esteban Murillo (1617–1682)
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The Annunciation To Mary – Luke 1:26 – 38, KJV
And in the sixth month the angel Gabriel was sent from God unto a city of
Galilee, named Nazareth,
To a virgin espoused to a man whose name was Joseph, of the house of
David; and the virgin's name was Mary.
And the angel came in unto her, and said, Hail, thou that art highly
favoured, the Lord is with thee: blessed art thou among women.
And when she saw him, she was troubled at his saying, and cast in her
mind what manner of salutation this should be.
And the angel said unto her, Fear not, Mary: for thou hast found favour with
God.
And, behold, thou shalt conceive in thy womb, and bring forth a son, and
shalt call his name JESUS.
He shall be great, and shall be called the Son of the Highest: and the Lord
God shall give unto him the throne of his father David:
And he shall reign over the house of Jacob for ever; and of his kingdom
there shall be no end.
Then said Mary unto the angel, How shall this be, seeing I know not a
man?
And the angel answered and said unto her, The Holy Ghost shall come
upon thee, and the power of the Highest shall overshadow thee: therefore
also that holy thing which shall be born of thee shall be called the Son of
God.
And, behold, thy cousin Elisabeth, she hath also conceived a son in her old
age: and this is the sixth month with her, who was called barren.
For with God nothing shall be impossible.
And Mary said, Behold the handmaid of the Lord; be it unto me according
to thy word. And the angel departed from her.
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The Virgin of the Annunciation, 1670/1680, Bartolomé Esteban Murillo, (1617–1682)
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“Blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb.”
Luke 1:42, KJV
Mary’s Song – Luke 1:46 – 55, KJV
And Mary said, My soul doth magnify the Lord,
And my spirit hath rejoiced in God my Saviour.
For he hath regarded the low estate of his handmaiden: for,
behold, from henceforth all generations shall call me blessed.
For he that is mighty hath done to me great things; and holy is
his name.
And his mercy is on them that fear him from generation to
generation.
He hath shewed strength with his arm; he hath scattered the
proud in the imagination of their hearts.
He hath put down the mighty from their seats, and exalted them
of low degree.
He hath filled the hungry with good things; and the rich he hath
sent empty away.
He hath helped his servant Israel, in remembrance of his mercy;
As he spake to our fathers, to Abraham, and to his seed for ever.
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The Immaculate Conception, 1680, Bartolomé Esteban Murillo, (1617–1682)
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POEM
The Virgin Mary To The Child Jesus (1868)
By Elizabeth Barrett Browning (1806 – 1861)
But see, the Virgin blest
Hath laid her babe to rest.
Milton.
I.
Sleep, sleep, mine Holy One!
My flesh, my Lord!–what name? I do not know
A name that seemeth not too high or low,
Too far from me or heaven.
My Jesus, that is best! that word being given
By the majestic angel whose command
Was softly as a man’s beseeching said,
When I and all the earth appeared to stand
In the great overflow
Of light celestial from his wings and head.
Sleep, sleep, my saving One!
II.
And art Thou come for saving, baby-browed
And speechless Being–art Thou come for saving?
The palm that grows beside our door is bowed
By treadings of the low wind from the south,
A restless shadow through the chamber waving:
Upon its bough a bird sings in the sun;
But Thou, with that close slumber on thy mouth,
Dost seem of wind and sun already weary.
Art come for saving, O my weary One?
III.
Perchance this sleep that shutteth out the dreary
Earth-sounds and motions, opens on Thy soul
High dreams on fire with God;
High songs that make the pathways where they roll
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More bright than stars do theirs; and visions new
Of Thine eternal nature’s old abode.
Suffer this mother’s kiss,
Best thing that earthly is,
To guide the music and the glory through,
Nor narrow in Thy dream the broad upliftings
Of any seraph wing!
Thus, noiseless, thus. Sleep, sleep, my dreaming One!
IV.
The slumber of His lips meseems to run
Through my lips to mine heart; to all its shiftings
Of sensual life, bring contrariousness
In a great calm. I feel, I could lie down
As Moses did, and die,[M]–and then live most.
I am ‘ware of you, heavenly Presences,
That stand with your peculiar light unlost,
Each forehead with a high thought for a crown,
Unsunned i’ the sunshine! I am ‘ware. Yet throw
No shade against the wall! How motionless
Ye round me with your living statuary,
While through your whiteness, in and outwardly,
Continual thoughts of God appear to go,
Like light’s soul in itself! I bear, I bear,
To look upon the dropt lids of your eyes,
Though their external shining testifies
To that beatitude within, which were
Enough to blast an eagle at his sun.
I fall not on my sad clay face before ye;
I look on His. I know
My spirit which dilateth with the woe
Of His mortality,
May well contain your glory.
Yea, drop your lids more low,
Ye are but fellow-worshippers with me!
Sleep, sleep, my worshipped One!
V.
We sate among the stalls at Bethlehem.
The dumb kine from their fodder turning them,
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Softened their horned faces
To almost human gazes
Towards the newly born.
The simple shepherds from the star-lit brooks
Brought visionary looks,
As yet in their astonished hearing rung
The strange, sweet angel-tongue.
The magi of the East, in sandals worn,
Knelt reverent, sweeping round,
With long pale beards their gifts upon the ground,
The incense, myrrh and gold,
These baby hands were impotent to hold.
So, let all earthlies and celestials wait
Upon thy royal state!
Sleep, sleep, my kingly One!
VI.
I am not proud–meek angels, ye invest
New meeknesses to hear such utterance rest
On mortal lips,–“I am not proud”–not proud!
Albeit in my flesh God sent His Son,
Albeit over Him my head is bowed
As others bow before Him, still mine heart
Bows lower than their knees. O centuries
That roll, in vision, your futurities
My future grave athwart,–
Whose murmurs seem to reach me while I keep
Watch o’er this sleep,–
Say of me as the heavenly said,–“Thou art
The blessedest of women!”–blessedest,
Not holiest, not noblest,–no high name,
Whose height misplaced may pierce me like a shame,
When I sit meek in heaven!
VII.
For me–for me–
God knows that I am feeble like the rest!–
I often wandered forth, more child than maiden,
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Among the midnight hills of Galilee,
Whose summits looked heaven-laden;
Listening to silence as it seemed to be
God’s voice, so soft yet strong–so fain to press
Upon my heart as heaven did on the height,
And waken up its shadows by a light,
And show its vileness by a holiness.
Then I knelt down most silent like the night,
Too self-renounced for fears,
Raising my small face to the boundless blue
Whose stars did mix and tremble in my tears.
God heard them falling after–with His dew.
VIII.
So, seeing my corruption, can I see.
This Incorruptible now born of me
This fair new Innocence no sun did chance
To shine on, (for even Adam was no child,)
Created from my nature all defiled,
This mystery from out mine ignorance–
Nor feel the blindness, stain, corruption, more
Than others do, or I did heretofore?–
Can hands wherein such burden pure has been,
Not open with the cry, “Unclean, unclean!”
More oft than any else beneath the skies?
Ah King, ah Christ, ah Son!
The kine, the shepherds, the abased wise,
Must all less lowly wait
Than I, upon thy state!–
Sleep, sleep, my kingly One!
IX.
Art Thou a King, then? Come, His universe,
Come, crown me Him a king!
Pluck rays from all such stars as never fling
Their light where fell a curse.
And make a crowning for this kingly brow!–
What is my word?–Each empyreal star
Sits in a sphere afar
In shining ambuscade:
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The child-brow, crowned by none,
Keeps its unchildlike shade.
Sleep, sleep, my crownless One!
X.
Unchildlike shade!–no other babe doth wear
An aspect very sorrowful, as Thou.–
No small babe-smiles, my watching heart has seen,
To float like speech the speechless lips between;
No dovelike cooing in the golden air,
No quick short joys of leaping babyhood.
Alas, our earthly good
In heaven thought evil, seems too good for Thee:
Yet, sleep, my weary One!
XI.
And then the drear, sharp tongue of prophecy,
With the dread sense of things which shall be done,
Doth smite me inly, like a sword–a sword?–
(That “smites the Shepherd!”) then I think aloud
The words “despised,”–“rejected,”–every word
Recoiling into darkness as I view
The darling on my knee.
Bright angels,–move not!–lest ye stir the cloud
Betwixt my soul and His futurity!
I must not die, with mother’s work to do,
And could not live–and see.
XII.
It is enough to bear
This image still and fair–
This holier in sleep,
Than a saint at prayer:
This aspect of a child
Who never sinned or smiled–
This presence in an infant’s face:
This sadness most like love,
This love than love more deep,
This weakness like omnipotence,
It is so strong to move!
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Awful is this watching place,
Awful what I see from hence–
A king, without regalia,
A God, without the thunder,
A child, without the heart for play;
Ay, a Creator rent asunder
From His first glory and cast away
On His own world, for me alone
To hold in hands created, crying–Son!
XIII.
That tear fell not on Thee
Beloved, yet Thou stirrest in Thy slumber!
Thou, stirring not for glad sounds out of number
Which through the vibratory palm-trees run
From summer wind and bird,
So quickly hast Thou heard
A tear fall silently?–
Wak’st Thou, O loving One?
FOOTNOTE:
[M] It is a Jewish tradition that Moses died of the kisses of God’s
lips.
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Hugo van der Goes (circa 1440 -1482), 1475, Portinary Tryptique, Detail of Mary and Joseph going to Bethlehem for the census
(left panel)
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The Journey To Bethlehem – Luke 2:1 – 5, KJV
And it came to pass in those days, that there went out a decree from
Caesar Augustus that all the world should be taxed.
(And this taxing was first made when Cyrenius was governor of Syria.)
And all went to be taxed, every one into his own city.
And Joseph also went up from Galilee, out of the city of Nazareth, into
Judaea, unto the city of David, which is called Bethlehem; (because he was
of the house and lineage of David:)
To be taxed with Mary his espoused wife, being great with child.
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CAROL
O little town of Bethlehem (1868)
By Phillips Brooks (1835 – 1893)
1 O little town of Bethlehem,
how still we see thee lie;
above thy deep and dreamless sleep
the silent stars go by:
yet in thy dark streets shineth
the everlasting Light;
the hopes and fears of all the years
are met in thee tonight.
2 For Christ is born of Mary,
and gathered all above,
while mortals sleep, the angels keep
their watch of wond'ring love.
O morning stars, together
proclaim the holy birth!
And praises sing to God the King,
and peace to men on earth.
3 How silently, how silently,
the wondrous gift is giv'n!
So God imparts to human hearts
the blessings of his heav'n.
No ear may hear his coming,
but in this world of sin,
where meek souls will receive him still,
the dear Christ enters in.
4 O holy child of Bethlehem,
descend to us, we pray;
cast out our sin and enter in;
be born in us today.
We hear the Christmas angels
the great glad tidings tell;
O come to us, abide with us,
our Lord Emmanuel!
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Mary and Joseph seeking refuge in Bethlehem, 1664, Simon de Vos (1603 – 1676)
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Time For Mary To Give Birth – Luke 2:6, KJV
And so it was, that, while they were there, the days were accomplished that
she should be delivered.
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HYMN
No Room In The Inn
By A. L. Skilton, refrain by R. Kelso Carter (1849 – 1928), 1891
1. No beautiful chamber, no soft cradle bed,
No place but a manger, nowhere for His head;
No praises of gladness, no thought of their sin,
No glory but sadness, no room in the inn.
Refrain
No room, no room, for Jesus,
O give Him welcome free,
Lest you should hear at Heaven's gate,
"There is no room for thee."
2. No sweet consecration, no seeking His part,
No humiliation, no place in the heart;
No thought of the Savior, no sorrow for sin,
No prayer for His favor, no room in the inn. Refrain
3. No one to receive Him, no welcome while here,
No balm to relieve Him, no staff but a spear;
No seeking His treasure, no weeping for sin,
No doing His pleasure, no room in the inn. Refrain
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The Nativity, 1665-1670, Bartolomé Esteban Murillo, (1617–1682)
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The Birth of Jesus – Luke 2:7, KJV
And she brought forth her firstborn son, and wrapped him in swaddling
clothes, and laid him in a manger; because there was no room for them in
the inn.
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POEM
Nativity
By John Donne (1572-1631)
Immensity cloistered in thy dear womb,
Now leaves His well-belov'd imprisonment,
There He hath made Himself to His intent
Weak enough, now into the world to come;
But O, for thee, for Him, hath the inn no room?
Yet lay Him in this stall, and from the Orient,
Stars and wise men will travel to prevent
The effect of Herod's jealous general doom.
Seest thou, my soul, with thy faith's eyes, how He
Which fills all place, yet none holds Him, doth lie?
Was not His pity towards thee wondrous high,
That would have need to be pitied by thee?
Kiss Him, and with Him into Egypt go,
With His kind mother, who partakes thy woe.
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POEM
Christmas Carol
By James S. Park (1903)
So crowded was the little town
On the first Christmas day,
Tired Mary Mother laid her down
To rest upon the hay.
(Ah, would my door might have been thrown
Wide open on her way!)
But when the Holy Babe was born
In the deep hush of night,
It seemed as if a Sabbath morn
Had come with sacred light.
Child Jesus made the place forlorn
With his own beauty bright.
The manger rough was all his rest;
The cattle, having fed,
Stood silent by, or closer pressed,
And gravely wonderéd.
(Ah, Lord, if only that my breast
Had cradled Thee instead!)
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POEM
His Mother's Joy
By John White Chadwick (1840-1904)
Little, I ween, did Mary guess,
As on her arm her baby lay,
What tides of joy would swell and beat,
Through ages long, on Christmas day.
And what if she had known it all,--
The awful splendor of his fame?
The inmost heart of all her joy
Would still, methinks, have been the same:
The joy that every mother knows
Who feels her babe against her breast:
The voyage long is overpast,
And now is calm and peace and rest.
"Art thou the Christ?" The wonder came
As easy as her infant's breath:
But answer none. Enough for her,
That love had triumphed over death.
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POEM
A Christmas Carol
By G.K. Chesterton (1874-1936)
The Christ-child lay on Mary's lap,
His hair was like a light.
O weary, weary were the world,
But here is all aright.
The Christ-child lay on Mary's breast,
His hair was like a star.
(O stern and cunning are the kings,
But here the true hearts are.)
The Christ-child lay on Mary's heart,
His hair was like a fire.
(O weary, weary is the world,
But here the world's desire.)
The Christ-child stood at Mary's knee,
His hair was like a crown.
And all the flowers looked up at Him,
And all the stars looked down.
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The Shepherds and the Angel, 1879, Carl Bloch (1834 – 1890)
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The Annunciation To The Shepherds – Luke 2:8 – 12, KJV
And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping
watch over their flock by night.
And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord
shone round about them: and they were sore afraid.
And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good
tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people.
For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ
the Lord.
And this shall be a sign unto you; Ye shall find the babe wrapped in
swaddling clothes, lying in a manger.
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HYMN
While Shepherds Watched Their Flocks (1700)
By Nahum Tate (1652 – 1715)
1. While shepherds watched their flocks by night,
All seated on the ground,
The angel of the Lord came down,
And glory shone around.
2. “Fear not!” said he, for mighty dread
Had seized their troubled mind;
“Glad tidings of great joy I bring
To you and all mankind.
3. “To you, in David’s town, this day
Is born of David’s line
A Savior, who is Christ the Lord,
And this shall be the sign:
4. “The heav’nly Babe you there shall find
To human view displayed,
All meanly wrapped in swathing bands,
And in a manger laid.”
5. Thus spake the seraph and forthwith
Appeared a shining throng
Of angels praising God on high,
Who thus addressed their song:
6. “All glory be to God on high,
And to the Earth be peace;
Good will henceforth from heav’n to men
Begin and never cease!”
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The Angels and the Shepherds, between 1886 and 1894, James Tissot (1836 – 1902)
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The Angels Singing Glory To The Lord – Luke 2:13 – 15, KJV
And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host
praising God, and saying,
Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men.
And it came to pass, as the angels were gone away from them into heaven,
the shepherds said one to another, Let us now go even unto Bethlehem,
and see this thing which is come to pass, which the Lord hath made known
unto us.
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CAROL
Good News From Heaven The Angels Sing (1539)
A Christmas Carol For Children by Martin Luther (1483-1546)
Good news from heaven the angels bring,
Glad tidings to the earth they sing:
To us this day a child is given,
To crown us with the joy of heaven.
This is the Christ, our God and Lord,
Who in all need shall aid afford:
He will Himself our Saviour be,
From sin and sorrow set us free.
To us that blessedness He brings,
Which from the Father's bounty springs:
That in the heavenly realm we may
With Him enjoy eternal day.
All hail, Thou noble Guest, this morn,
Whose love did not the sinner scorn!
In my distress Thou cam'st to me:
What thanks shall I return to Thee?
Were earth a thousand times as fair,
Beset with gold and jewels rare,
She yet were far too poor to be
A narrow cradle, Lord, for Thee.
Ah, dearest Jesus, Holy Child!
Make Thee a bed, soft, undefiled,
Within my heart, that it may be
A quiet chamber kept for Thee.
Praise God upon His heavenly throne,
Who gave to us His only Son:
For this His hosts, on joyful wing,
A blest New Year of mercy sing.
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CAROL
Angels from the Realms of Glory (1816)
By James Montgomery (1771 – 1854)
Angels, from the realms of glory,
Wing your flight o'er all the earth;
Ye who sang creation's story,
Now proclaim Messiah's birth:
Come and worship, come and worship
Worship Christ, the newborn King.
Shepherds, in the fields abiding,
Watching o'er your flocks by night,
God with man is now residing,
Yonder shines the infant light:
Sages, leave your contemplations,
Brighter visions beam afar;
Seek the great Desire of nations,
Ye have seen his natal star:
Saints before the altar bending,
Watching long in hope and fear,
Suddenly the Lord, descending,
In his temple shall appear.
Sinners, wrung with true repentance,
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Doomed for guilt to endless pains,
Justice now revokes the sentence,
Mercy calls you—break your chains:
Though an infant now we view him,
He shall fill his Father's throne,
Gather all the nations to him;
Every knee shall then bow down:
All creation, join in praising
God the Father, Spirit, Son,
Evermore your voices raising,
To th'eternal Three in One:
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The Adoration of the Shepherds, 1650, Bartolomé Esteban Murillo, (1617–1682)
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The Adoration of The Shepherds – Luke 2:16 – 20, KJV
And they came with haste, and found Mary, and Joseph, and the babe lying
in a manger.
And when they had seen it, they made known abroad the saying which was
told them concerning this child.
And all they that heard it wondered at those things which were told them by
the shepherds.
But Mary kept all these things, and pondered them in her heart.
And the shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all the things
that they had heard and seen, as it was told unto them.
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POEM
A Hymn on the Nativity of My Savior
By Ben Jonson (1572-1637)
I sing the birth was born tonight,
The Author both of life and light;
The angels so did sound it,
And like the ravished shepherds said,
Who saw the light, and were afraid,
Yet searched, and true they found it.
The Son of God, the eternal King,
That did us all salvation bring,
And freed the soul from danger;
He whom the whole world could not take,
The Word, which heav'n and earth did make,
Was now laid in a manger.
The Father's wisdom willed it so,
The Son's obedience knew no "No,"
Both wills were in one stature;
And as that wisdom had decreed,
The Word was now made Flesh indeed,
And took on Him our nature.
What comfort by Him do we win?
Who made Himself the Prince of sin,
To make us heirs of glory?
To see this Babe, all innocence,
A Martyr born in our defense,
Can man forget this story?
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POEM
On the Morning of Christ's Nativity
By John Milton (1608-1674)
It was the winter wild,
While the Heav'n-born child,
All meanly wrapt in the rude manger lies;
Nature in awe to him
Had doffed her gaudy trim,
With her great Master so to sympathize:
It was no season then for her
To wanton with the Sun, her lusty paramour.
No war or battle's sound
Was heard the world around;
The idle spear and shield were high uphung;
The hooked chariot stood
Unstained with hostile blood;
The trumpet spake not to the armed throng;
And kings sate still with awful eye,
As if they surely knew their sov'reign Lord was by.
But peaceful was the night
Wherein the Prince of Light
His reign of peace upon the earth began:
The winds with wonder whist,
Smoothly the waters kissed,
Whispering new joys to the mild Ocean,
Who now hath quite forgot to rave,
While birds of calm sit brooding on the charmed wave.
The Stars with deep amaze
Stand fix'd in steadfast gaze,
Bending one way their precious influence;
And will not take their flight,
For all the morning light,
Or Lucifer that often warn'd them thence,
But in their glimmering orbs did glow,
Until their Lord himself bespake, and bid them go.
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The shepherds on the lawn,
Or ere the point of dawn,
Sate simply chatting in a rustic row;
Full little thought they than
That the mighty Pan
Was kindly come to live with them below:
Perhaps their loves, or else their sheep,
Was all that did their silly thoughts so busy keep;
When such music sweet
Their hearts and ears did greet,
As never was by mortal finger strook,
Divinely warbled voice
Answering the stringed noise,
As all their souls in blissful rapture took:
The air such pleasure loth to lose,
With thousand echoes still prolongs each heav'nly close.
Ring out ye crystal spheres!
Once bless our human ears
(If ye have power to touch our senses so)
And let your silver chime
Move in melodious time,
And let the bass of Heav'n's deep organ blow;
And with your ninefold harmony
Make up full consort to th'angelic symphony.
Yea, Truth and Justice then
Will down return to men,
Orb'd in a rainbow; and, like glories wearing,
Mercy will sit between,
Thron'd in celestial sheen,
With radiant feet the tissu'd clouds down steering;
And Heav'n, as at some festival,
Will open wide the gates of her high palace hall.
But see, the Virgin blest
Hath laid her Babe to rest:
Time is our tedious song should here have ending.
Heav'n's youngest-teemed star,
Hath fixed her polished car,
Her sleeping Lord with handmaid lamp attending;
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And all about the courtly stable,
Bright-harness'd Angels sit in order serviceable.
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POEM
A Cradle Hymn
By Isaac Watts (1674-1748)
Hush! my dear, lie still and slumber,
Holy Angels guard thy bed;
Heavenly blessings without number
Gently falling on thy head.
How much better thou'rt attended
Than the Son of God could be,
When from heaven He descended,
And became a child like thee!
Soft and easy is thy cradle:
Coarse and hard thy Saviour lay,
When His birthplace was a stable,
And His softest bed was hay.
See the kinder shepherds round Him,
Telling wonders from the sky!
Where they sought Him, there they found Him
With His Virgin-Mother by.
Lo, He slumbers in His manger,
Where the horned oxen fed;
--Peace, my darling, here's no danger;
Here's no ox a-near thy bed!
May'st thou live to know and fear Him,
Trust and love Him all thy days;
Then go dwell forever near Him,
See His face and sing His praise!
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POEM
A Christmas Carol
By Samuel Taylor Coleridge (1772-1834)
The shepherds went their hasty way,
And found the lowly stable-shed
Where the Virgin-Mother lay:
And now they checked their eager tread,
For to the Babe that at her bosom clung,
A Mother's song the Virgin-Mother sung.
They told her how a glorious light,
Streaming from a heavenly throng.
Around them shone, suspending night!
While sweeter than a mother's song,
Blest Angels heralded the Savior's birth,
Glory to God on high! and Peace on Earth!
She listened to the tale divine,
And closer still the Babe she pressed:
And while she cried, the Babe is mine!
The milk rushed faster to her breast:
Joy rose within her, like a summer's morn;
Peace, Peace on Earth! the Prince of Peace is born!
Thou Mother of the Prince of Peace,
Poor, simple, and of a low estate!
That strife should vanish, battle cease,
O why should this thy soul elate?
Sweet Music's loudest note, the Poet's story,--
Didst thou ne'er love to hear of fame and glory?
"Then wisely is my soul elate,
That strife should vanish, battle cease:
I'm poor and of low estate,
The Mother of the Prince of Peace.
Joy rises in me, like a summer's morn:
Peace, Peace on Earth! The Prince of Peace is born!"
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POEM
Christmas Day
By Samuel Rickards (1796-1865)
Though rude winds usher thee, sweet day,
Though clouds thy face deform,
Though nature's grace is swept away
Before thy sleety storm;
E'en in thy sombrest wintry vest,
Of blessed days thou art most blest.
Nor frigid air nor gloomy morn
Shall check our jubilee;
Bright is the day when Christ was born,
No sun need shine but He;
Let roughest storms their coldest blow,
With love of Him our hearts shall glow.
Inspired with high and holy thought,
Fancy is on the wing;
It seems as to mine ear it brought
Those voices carolling,
Voices through heaven and earth that ran,
Glory to God, good-will to man.
I see the shepherds gazing wild
At those fair spirits of light;
I see them bending o'er the child
With that untold delight,
Which marks the face of those who view
Things but too happy to be true.
There, in the lowly manger laid,
Incarnate God they see,
He stoops to take, through spotless maid,
Our frail humanity;
Son of high God, creations Heir,
He leaves His heaven to raise us there.
Through Him, Lord, we are born anew,
Thy children once again,
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Oh, day by day our hearts renew,
That Thine we may remain;
And angel-like, may all agree,
One sweet and holy family.
Oft as this joyous morn doth come
To speak our Saviour's love,
Oh, may it bear our spirits home
Where He now reigns above;
That day which brought Him from the skies
So man restores to Paradise.
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POEM
Christmas
By Phoebe Cary (1824-1871)
This happy day, whose risen sun
Shall set not through eternity,
This holy day when Christ the Lord,
Took on him our humanity,
For little children everywhere
A joyous season still we make,
We bring our precious gifts to them,
Even for the dear child Jesus' sake.
The blessed Babe of Bethlehem!
Whose life we love, whose name we laud;
Thou Brother, through whose poverty,
We have become the heirs of God;
O holy Child, about whose bed
The virgin mother softly trod
Dead once, yet living evermore
O Son of Mary, and of God!
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POEM
Christmas Carol
By Edwin Waugh (1817-1890)
Long time ago, in Palestine,
Upon a wintry morn.
All in a lowly cattle shed,
The Prince of Peace was born.
The clouds fled from the gloomy sky;
The winds in silence lay;
And the stars shone bright, with strange delight,
To welcome in that day.
His parents they were simple folk,
And simple lives they led;
And in the ways of righteousness
This little Child was bred.
In gentle thought, and gentle deed,
His early days went by;
And the light His youthful steps did lead
Came down from heaven on high.
He was the friend of all the poor
That wander here below;
It was His only joy on earth
To ease them of their woe.
In vain He trod His holy path,
By sorrow sorely tried;
It was for all mankind He lived,
And for mankind He died.
Like Him, let us be just and pure,
Like Him, be true alway;
That we may find the peace of mind
That never fades away.
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POEM
Christmas Hymn
By Eugene Field (1850-1895)
Sing, Christmas bells!
Say to the earth this is the morn
Whereon our Savior-King is born;
Sing to all men,--the bond, the free,
The rich, the poor, the high, the low,
The little child that sports in glee,
The aged folk that tottering go,--
Proclaim the morn
That Christ is born,
That saveth them and saveth me!
Sing, angel host!
Sing of the star that God has placed
Above the manger in the East;
Sing of the glories of the night,
The virgin's sweet humility,
The Babe with kingly robes bedight,--
Sing to all men where'er they be
This Christmas morn;
For Christ is born,
That saveth them and saveth me!
Sing, sons of earth!
O ransomed seed of Adam, sing!
God liveth, and we have a king!
The curse is gone, the bond are free--
By Bethlehem's star that brightly beamed,
By all the heavenly signs that be,
We know that Israel is redeemed;
That on this morn
The Christ is born
That saveth you and saveth me!
Sing, O my heart!
Sing thou in rapture this dear morn
Whereon the blessed Prince is born!
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And as thy songs shall be of love,
So let my deeds be charity
By the dear Lord that reigns above,
By Him that died upon the tree,
By this fair morn
Whereon is born
The Christ that saveth all and me!
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POEM
A Christmas Hymn
By Richard Watson Gilder (1844-1909)
Tell me what is this innumerable throng
Singing in the heavens a loud angelic song?
These are they who come with swift and shining feet
From round about the throne of God the Lord of Light to greet.
Oh, who are these that hasten beneath the starry sky,
As if with joyful tidings that through the world shall fly?
The faithful shepherds these, who greatly were afeared
When, as they watched their flocks by night, the heavenly host appeared.
Who are these that follow across the hills of night
A star that westward hurries along the fields of light?
Three wise men from the east who myrrh and treasure bring
To lay them at the feet of him their Lord and Christ and King.
What babe new-born is this that in a manger cries?
Near on her lowly bed his happy mother lies.
Oh, see the air is shaken with white and heavenly wings--
This is the Lord of all the earth, this is the King of kings.
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POEM
A Child's Song Of Christmas
By Marjorie L. C. Pickthall (1883-1922)
My counterpane is soft as silk,
My blankets white as creamy milk.
The hay was soft to Him, I know,
Our little Lord of long ago.
Above the roofs the pigeons fly
In silver wheels across the sky.
The stable-doves they cooed to them,
Mary and Christ in Bethlehem.
Bright shines the sun across the drifts,
And bright upon my Christmas gifts.
They brought Him incense, myrrh, and gold,
Our little Lord who lived of old.
Oh, soft and clear our mother sings
Of Christmas joys and Christmas things.
God's holy angels sang to them,
Mary and Christ in Bethlehem.
Our hearts they hold all Christmas dear,
And earth seems sweet and heaven seems near,
Oh, heaven was in His sight, I know,
That little Child of long ago.
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The Journey of the Three Kings, 1825, Leopold Kupelwieser (1796-1862)
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Three Wise Men – Matthew 2:1 – 10, KJV
Now when Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judaea in the days of Herod
the king, behold, there came wise men from the east to Jerusalem,
Saying, Where is he that is born King of the Jews? for we have seen his
star in the east, and are come to worship him.
When Herod the king had heard these things, he was troubled, and all
Jerusalem with him.
And when he had gathered all the chief priests and scribes of the people
together, he demanded of them where Christ should be born.
And they said unto him, In Bethlehem of Judaea: for thus it is written by the
prophet,
And thou Bethlehem, in the land of Juda, art not the least among the
princes of Juda: for out of thee shall come a Governor, that shall rule my
people Israel.
Then Herod, when he had privily called the wise men, enquired of them
diligently what time the star appeared.
And he sent them to Bethlehem, and said, Go and search diligently for the
young child; and when ye have found him, bring me word again, that I may
come and worship him also.
When they had heard the king, they departed; and, lo, the star, which they
saw in the east, went before them, till it came and stood over where the
young child was.
When they saw the star, they rejoiced with exceeding great joy.
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Adoration of the Magi, 1655-1660, Bartolomé Esteban Murillo, (1617–1682)
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The Adoration of The Magi – Matthew 2:11 – 12, KJV
And when they were come into the house, they saw the young child with
Mary his mother, and fell down, and worshipped him: and when they had
opened their treasures, they presented unto him gifts; gold, and
frankincense and myrrh.
And being warned of God in a dream that they should not return to Herod,
they departed into their own country another way.
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POEM
The Three Kings
By Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807-1882)
Three Kings came riding from far away,
Melchior and Gaspar and Baltasar;
Three Wise Men out of the East were they,
And they travelled by night and they slept by day,
For their guide was a beautiful, wonderful star.
The star was so beautiful, large and clear,
That all the other stars of the sky
Became a white mist in the atmosphere,
And by this they knew that the coming was near
Of the Prince foretold in the prophecy.
"Of the child that is born," said Baltasar,
"Good people, I pray you, tell us the news;
For we in the East have seen his star,
And have ridden fast, and have ridden far,
To find and worship the King of the Jews."
And the people answered, "You ask in vain;
We know of no King but Herod the Great!"
They thought the Wise Men were men insane,
As they spurred their horses across the plain,
Like riders in haste, who cannot wait.
And when they came to Jerusalem,
Herod the Great, who had heard this thing,
Sent for the Wise Men and questioned them;
And said, "Go down unto Bethlehem,
And bring me tidings of this new king."
So they rode away; and the star stood still,
The only one in the grey of morn;
Yes, it stopped --it stood still of its own free will,
Right over Bethlehem on the hill,
The city of David, where Christ was born.
And cradled there in the scented hay,
In the air made sweet by the breath of kine,
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The little child in the manger lay,
The child, that would be king one day
Of a kingdom not human, but divine.
They laid their offerings at his feet:
The gold was their tribute to a King,
The frankincense, with its odor sweet,
Was for the Priest, the Paraclete,
The myrrh for the body's burying.
Then the Kings rode out of the city gate,
With a clatter of hoofs in proud array;
But they went not back to Herod the Great,
For they knew his malice and feared his hate,
And returned to their homes by another way.
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POEM
Star of the East
By Eugene Field (1850-1895)
Star of the East, that long ago
Brought wise men on their way
Where, angels singing to and fro,
The Child of Bethlehem lay--
Above that Syrian hill afar
Thou shinest out to-night, O Star!
Star of the East, the night were drear
But for the tender grace
That with thy glory comes to cheer
Earth's loneliest, darkest place;
For by that charity we see
Where there is hope for all and me.
Star of the East! show us the way
In wisdom undefiled
To seek that manger out and lay
Our gifts before the child--
To bring our hearts and offer them
Unto our King in Bethlehem!
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POEM
When The Stars Of Morning Sang
By Anne P. L. Field (1874-1948)
When the stars of morning sang
Long ago,
Sweet the air with music rang
Through the snow,
There beside the mother mild
Slept the blessed Christmas child,--
Slumber holy, undefiled--
Here below.
When the wise men traveled far
Through the night,
Following the guiding star
Pure and bright,
Lo! it stood above the place
Sanctified by Heaven's grace,
And upon the Christ-Child's face
Shed its light.
When the world lay hushed and still
Christmas morn,
Suddenly were skies athrill--
"Christ is born!"
Angel voices, high and clear,
Chanted tidings of good cheer,
"See, the Infant King is here,
Christ is born!"
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CAROL
We Three Kings
By Rev. John Henry Hopkins (1792 – 1868)
We three kings of Orient are
Bearing gifts we traverse afar
Field and fountain, moor and mountain
Following yonder star
O Star of wonder, star of night
Star with royal beauty bright
Westward leading, still proceeding
Guide us to thy Perfect Light
Born a King on Bethlehem's plain
Gold I bring to crown Him again
King forever, ceasing never
Over us all to reign
Guide us to Thy perfect light
Frankincense to offer have I
Incense owns a Deity nigh
Prayer and praising, all men raising
Worship Him, God most high
Myrrh is mine, its bitter perfume
Breathes of life of gathering gloom
Sorrowing, sighing, bleeding, dying
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Sealed in the stone-cold tomb
Glorious now behold Him arise
King and God and Sacrifice
Alleluia, Alleluia
Earth to heav'n replies
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Thank You!
Thank you for having purchased my book. I really appreciate it.
Are you interested in more Bible-based creative resources?
Then visit my website https://www.janetsartcorner.com.
Please leave an honest review.
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About The Author
Janet Giessl was a little girl who had two great passions: writing and
drawing. Unfortunately, all her creative works only remained in the drawer.
More than 30 years later, after getting married and two children, she now
has the heart to publish her writing and illustrations.
Janet Giessl is a Christ follower, wife, mom, teacher, intuitive artist, author,
highly-sensitive person, and multipotentialite.
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