The Blasts of Chill December

The blasts of chill De­cem­ber sound

The fare­well of the year

And night’s swift sha­dows ga­ther­ing round

O’ercloud the soul with fear;

But rest you well

good Christ­ian men

Nor be of heart for­lorn;

December’s dark­ness brings again

The Light of Christ­mas morn.

The wel­come snow at Christ­mas­tide

Falls shin­ing from the skies:

On vil­lage paths and up­lands wide

All ho­ly-white it lies;

It crowns with pearl the oaks and pines

And glit­ters on the thorn;

But pur­er is the Light that shines

On glad­some Christ­mas morn.

At Christ­mas­tide the grac­ious moon

Keeps vi­gil while we sleep

And sheds abroad her light’s sweet boon

On vale and mount­ain-steep;

O’er all the slum­ber­ing land des­cends

Her ra­di­an­cy un­shorn;

But bright­er is the light

good friends

That shines on Christ­mas morn.

’Twas when the world was wax­ing old

And night on Beth­le­hem lay

The shep­herds saw the heav­ens un­fold

A light be­yond the day;

Such glo­ry ne’er had vis­it­ed

A world with sin out­worn;

But yet more glo­ri­ous Light is shed

On hap­py Christ­mas morn.

Those shep­herds poor

how blest were they

The an­gels’ song to hear!

In man­ger cra­dle as He lay

To greet their Lord so dear!

The Lord of Heav­en’s eter­nal height

For us a Child was born;

And He

the ve­ry Light of light

Shone forth that Christ­mas morn!

Before His in­fant smile afar

Were driv­en the hosts of hell;

And still in souls that child­like are

His guard­ian love shall dwell:

O then re­joice

good Christ­ian men

Nor be of heart for­lorn;

December’s dark­ness brings again

The light of Christ­mas morn.