Page:Our American Holidays - Christmas.djvu/62

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While, o'er every glade and glen,
   Broke the light of Bethlehem's star

Star of hope to souls in night,
   Star of peace above our strife,
Guiding, where the gates of death
   Ope to fields of endless life.
Wanderer from the nightly throng
   Which the eastern heavens gem;
Guided, by an angel's song,
   To the Babe of Bethlehem.

Not Judea's hills alone
   Have earth's weary gleaners trod,
Not to heirs of David's throne
   Is it given to "reign with God."
But where'er on His green earth
   Heavenly faith and longing are,
Heavenly hope and life have birth,
   'Neath the smile of Bethlehem's star.

In each lowly heart or home,
   By each love-watched cradle-bed,
Where we rest, or where we roam,
   Still its changeless light is shed.
In its beams each quickened heart,
   Howe'er saddened or denied,
Keeps one little place apart
   For the Hebrew mother's Child.

And that inner temple fair
   May be holier ground than this,