A Christmas Carol
I
 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.
II
 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 Saviour's birth,
Glory to God on high! and Peace on Earth.
III
 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.
IV
 Thou Mother of the Prince of Peace,
   Poor, simple, and of 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?
V
 And is not War a youthful king,
   A stately Hero clad in mail?
 Beneath his footsteps laurels spring;
   Him Earth's majestic monarchs hail
Their friend, their playmate! and his bold bright eye
Compels the maiden's love-confessing sigh.
VI
 'Tell this in some more courtly scene,
   To maids and youths in robes of state!
 I am a woman poor and mean,
   And therefore is my soul elate.
War is a ruffian, all with guilt defiled,
That from the agéd father tears his child!
VII
 'A murderous fiend, by fiends adored,
   He kills the sire and starves the son;
 The husband kills, and from her board
   Steals all his widow's toil had won;
Plunders God's world of beauty; rends away
All safety from the night, all comfort from the day.
VIII
 'Then wisely is my soul elate,
   That strife should vanish, battle cease:
 I'm poor and of a 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.
 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.
II
 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 Saviour's birth,
Glory to God on high! and Peace on Earth.
III
 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.
IV
 Thou Mother of the Prince of Peace,
   Poor, simple, and of 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?
V
 And is not War a youthful king,
   A stately Hero clad in mail?
 Beneath his footsteps laurels spring;
   Him Earth's majestic monarchs hail
Their friend, their playmate! and his bold bright eye
Compels the maiden's love-confessing sigh.
VI
 'Tell this in some more courtly scene,
   To maids and youths in robes of state!
 I am a woman poor and mean,
   And therefore is my soul elate.
War is a ruffian, all with guilt defiled,
That from the agéd father tears his child!
VII
 'A murderous fiend, by fiends adored,
   He kills the sire and starves the son;
 The husband kills, and from her board
   Steals all his widow's toil had won;
Plunders God's world of beauty; rends away
All safety from the night, all comfort from the day.
VIII
 'Then wisely is my soul elate,
   That strife should vanish, battle cease:
 I'm poor and of a 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.