New Year Song

They say that the year is old and gray,
That his eyes are dim with sorrow;
But what care we, though he pass away?
For the New Year comes tomorrow.

No sighs have we for the roses fled,
No tears for the vanished summer;
Fresh flowers will spring where the old are dead,
To welcome the glad new comer.

He brings us a gift from the beautiful land
We see, in our rosy dreaming,
Where the wonderful castles of fancy stand
In magical sunshine gleaming.

Then sing, young hearts that are full of cheer,
With never a thought of sorrow;
The old goes out, but the glad young year
Comes merrily in tomorrow.

Hang Up The Baby’s Stocking

Hang up the baby’s stocking
Be sure you don’t forget!
The dear little dimpled darling,
She never saw Christmas yet!
But I’ve told her all about it,
And she opened her big blue eyes;
And I’m sure she understood it-
She looked so funny and wise.

Dear, what a tiny stocking!
It doesn’t take much to hold
Such little pink toe’s as baby’s
Away from the frost and the cold
But then, for the baby’s Christmas,
It will never do at all.
Why! Santa wouldn’t be looking
For anything half so small.

I know what I will do for the baby.
I’ve thought of the very best plan.
I’ll borrow a stocking of Grandma’s,
The longest that ever I can
And you’ll hang it by mine, dear mother,
Right here in the corner so!
And leave a letter to Santa,
And fasten it in the toe.

Write-this is the baby’s stocking,
That hangs in the corner here.
You never have seen her, Santa,
For she only came this year
But she’s just the blessed’st baby.
And now before you go,
Just cram her stocking with goodies,
From the top clean down to the toe!

The Bluebird song

I know the song that the bluebird is singing,
Out in the apple-tree where he is swinging;
Brave little fellow, the skies may look dreary;
Nothing cares he while his heart is so cheery.

Hark! how the music leaps out from his throat,
Hark! was there ever so merry a note?
Listen awhile and you’ll hear what he’s saying,
Up in the apple-tree swinging and swaying.

“Dear little blossoms down under the snow,
You must be weary of winter, I know;
Hark, while I sing you a message of cheer;
Summer is coming and spring-time is here!

“Little white snowdrop! I pray you arise;
Bright yellow crocus! come, open your eyes;
Sweet little violets, hid from the cold,
Put on your mantles of purple and gold;
Daffodils! daffodils! say, do you hear?-
Summer is coming and spring-time is here!”

Oh Realm of Light!

Oh realm of light! whose morning star
To Bethlehem’s manger led the way,
Not yet upon our longing eyes
Shines the full splendor of thy day:
Yet still across the centuries fall,
Both strong and sweet, our Lord’s command;
And still with steadfast faith we cry,
“Behold, the kingdom is at hand!”

Oh realm of Heav’n! whose dawn began
With love’s divine, incarnate breath,
Our hearts were slow to understand
The lessons of that life and death:
Yet though with stammering tongues we tell
Redemption’s story, strange and sweet,
The world’s Redeemer, lifted up
Shall draw the nations to His feet.

Oh realm of peace! whose music clear
Swept through Judea’s starlit skies,
Still the harsh sounds of human strife
Break on thy heavenly harmonies;
Yet shall thy song of triumph ring
In full accord, from land to land,
And men with angels learn to sing,
“Behold, the kingdom is at hand!”

I Love To Hear The Story

I love to hear the story
Which angel voices tell,
How once the King of glory
Came down on earth to dwell.
I am both weak and sinful;
But this I surely know,
The Lord came down to save me,
Because He loved me so.

II

I’m glad my blessèd Savior
Was once a child like me,
To show how pure and holy
His little ones might be;
And, if I try to follow
His footsteps here below,
He never will forget me,
Because He loves me so.

III

To sing His love and mercy
My sweetest songs I’ll raise;
And, though I cannot see Him,
I know he hears my praise;
For He has kindly promised
That even I may go
To sing among His angels,
Because He loves me so.

Tell The Blessed Tidings

Tell the blessèd tidings, children of the King,
With your glad hosannas make the morning ring:
Songs of His salvation, nevermore should cease;
Crown Him with your praises, hail Him Prince of Peace!
Round His throne of triumph happy hosts attend,
His the power and glory, kingdom without end.

Tell the blessèd tidings, ye whose ears have heard;
Tell it to the captives waiting for His Word:
Tell the hungry nations, longing to be fed,
Of the living water and the heav’nly bread.
Mighty to deliver, tender Guide and Friend,
His the power and glory, kingdom without end.

Bear the blessèd tidings, over land and sea;
Lo, the morning breaketh, and the shadows flee!
Whosoever heareth, speed the news along,
Join with men and angels, in salvation’s song.
Christ the world’s Redeemer, Savior, Guide and Friend!
Thine the power and glory, kingdom without end!

The Wood-Dove’s Note

Meadows with yellow cowslips all aglow,
Glory of sunshine on the uplands bare,
And faint and far, with sweet elusive flow,
The Wood-dove’s plaintive call,
‘O where! where! where!’

Straight with old Omar in the almond grove
From whitening boughs I breathe the odors rare
And hear the princess mourning for her love
With sad unwearied plaint,
‘O where! where! where!’

New madrigals in each soft pulsing throat –
New life upleaping to the brooding air –
Still the heart answers to that questing note,
‘Soul of the vanished years,
O where! where! where!’