Three Peals of Bells

The Christ­mas bells! What glad wild notes

They fling against the win­try sky

And how their clang­ing ir­on throats

Catch back the ech­oes ere they die!

For ma­ny hun­dred years ago

Was born in­to this world be­low

A hum­ble babe―a migh­ty king―

Whom end­less praise the an­gels sing

While men adore.

The new year’s chimes! One mourn­ful bell

Booms sad­ly from the still church tow­er;

It tolls the old year’s part­ing knell

It tells the old year’s dy­ing hour!

But

sud­den­ly the hills around

Vibrate again the mer­ry sound

Of bells

that on the night air break

Bidding all thank­ful hearts awake

The glad world o’er.

Another peal! A week has fled

Again the mer­ry bells are heard;

And the old raft­ers ov­er­head

Seem in their dust and cob­webs stirred;

For

through Old Eng­land’s breadth and length

All hearts

all tongues unite their strength

To tell how smiles on Eng­land’s heir

A lit­tle in­fant soft and fair

His first born son.

We do not know what joy may here

Upon his on­ward path be shed

But this we pray

that each new year

May pour new bless­ings on his head!

And as each Christ­mas­tide comes round

May he more Christ­ian-like be found

Till

full of hon­ors

full of days

He pass­es to the life of praise

On earth be­gun.