Christ's Day

Marcb trumpets and the violet Springs up to clieer the wood: E'en so, when stonns of winter fret, Does Christmas bloom lest we lorget % The joy of doing good. Sweet day, when every bosom thrills With such a joy as stirr'd The Wise Men when, above the Wils, They saw the Star whose glory ölls And beautiües the Word; When soldiers leave the field of strife, And battle flags are furled, Whüe in the marts where trade wiVrlfs, There moves a mercy-loving liíe, A oharitable world; When favors are in all thafs said, And acts do not oppress, But joys return we've counted dead- Ha maketh smooth the pateh we tread With special tenderness. O bells of golden gladness, ring! The stream of plenty flows, The -n-orld has giíts to surfciting, To-day our Brother Christ is King And rules the hearts He knows.