Page:Our American Holidays - Christmas.djvu/59

 Rh Resemble heaven, whom golden drops make bright, Listen, O listen, now, O not to you Our pipes make sport to shorten weary night: But voices most divine Make blissful harmony: Voices that seem to shine, For what else clears the sky? Tunes can we hear, but not the singers see. The tunes divine, and so the singers be.

Lo, how the firmament Within an azure fold The flock of stars hath pent, That we might them behold, Yet from their beams proceedeth not this light, Nor can their crystals such reflection give. What then doth make the element so bright? The heavens are come down upon earth tc live But hearken to the song, Glory to glory's King, And peace all men among. These quiristers do sing. Angels they are, as also (shepherds) He Whom in our fear we do admire to see.

Let not amazement blind Your souls, said he, annoy: To you and all mankind My message bringeth joy.