Christmas Day

Words: Samuel Rickards

Source: Henry Vizetelly, Christmas With The Poets (London: David Bogue, 1851).

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,
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.

Then let winds usher thee, sweet day,
    Let 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.

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