---

Eugene Field - Christmas Eve 1914
Work rating: Medium

Silent, to-night, o`er Judah`s hills
     Bend low the angel throng,
No heavenly music fills the air
     Exultantly with song;
Yet, close above the sin-scarred earth,
     Broods still the Love Divine,
And through the darkness, as of old,
     The stars of pity shine.


Silent, to-night, is Bethlehem:
     Along the hushèd ways
No eager feet of worshippers,
     No melodies of praise;
Yet, in the quietness that fills
     The waiting hearts of men,
The ancient miracle of hope
     Is wrought, to-night, again.


O holy Christ! to whom, of old,
     The wondering shepherds came,
The light they sought with flaming joy
     We seek in contrite shame;
And though men strive, we dare to hope
     That Thou again art born,
For, through the night of our despair,
     Behold! Thy star of morn!
Source
The script ran 0.002 seconds.