From Every Spire on Christmas Eve

From ev­ery spire on Christ­mas Eve

The Christ­mas bells ring clear­ly out

Their mes­sage of good­will and peace

With ma­ny a call and sil­ver shout.

For faith­ful hearts

the an­gels’ song

Still ech­oes in the fros­ty air

And by the al­tar low they bow

In ado­rat­ion and in pray­er.

A thou­sand bless­èd me­mo­ries throng

The stars are ho­ly signs to them

And from the eyes of ev­ery child

Looks forth the Babe of Beth­le­hem;

But there are oth­ers

not like these

Whose brows are sad

whose hopes are crossed

To whom the sea­son brings no cheer

And life’s most gra­cious charm is lost.

To whom that sto­ry

old and sweet

Is but a fa­ble at the best

The Christ­mas mu­sic mocks their ears

And life has naught of joy or rest.

Oh! for an an­gel’s voice to pierce

The clouds of grief that o’er them rise

The mists of doubt and un­be­lief

That veil the blue of Christ­mas skies.

That they

at last

may see the light

Which shines from Beth­le’em

and un­fold

For Christ the trea­sures of their hearts

Richer than spi­ce­ry or gold.

O Hope of Ag­es

draw Thou near

Till all the earth shall own Thy sway

And when Thou reign’st in ev­ery heart

It will

in­deed

be Christ­mas Day.