Poetry Archives

Sing, Christmas bells!
Say to the earth this is the morn
Whereon our Saviour-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!
  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!