The Christmas of the South.

New Zealand Graphic, 20 December 1894, Page 22

The Christmas of the South.

Not when the harsh wind blows O’er waste of snows, And cruel keenness wings its frozen breath ; When songster and his mate Are desolate, And Nature wears the rigid robes of death. Not when the riven shrouds Of travailing clouds Unfold the issuing thunder’s goaded might ; When cheerless day is brief. And eve, in grief, Creeps to the sullen sepulchre of night. - Nay, ’tis not then, nor is it thus, That Christmas cometh unto us — The Christmas of the South. ’Tis in the fertile prime Of summer time, When Nature revels in unsullied strength ; When every radiant morn, In splendour born, Gives day effulgence through its gladsome length ’Tis when the lingering sun, As day is done. Pours floods of glory from the glowing west; When twilight and the eve Their vespers weave, And gently breathe our spirits into rest. Yea, it is then, and it is thus, That Christmas cometh unto us, The Christmas of the South. Dear kinsmen of the North, There goeth forth A royal song from out the ample South ; And glad responsive strain Comes back again, Till all rejoice with one melodious mouth. We stretch our yearning hands To other lands, Across the warm equator’s fusing flame, And gird this Day of Days With happy praise, In bidding kindly hearts beat still the same. Thus would we give Love impetus As Christmas cometh unto us, The Christmas of the South. Let joyful Christmastide Fling open wide The hearts whence Christlike charity doth flow ; Let the glad belfries peal. As tongues of steel Swing universal music to and fro. Let continents and isles Be clothed with smiles, Though each in sep’rate garb God’s fingers dress. And celebrate the birth Of Christ on earth, In plenitude of sacred happiness. With one great voice unisonous, Come glorious morning unto us— Grand Christmas of the South ! O, that the world might shine With light divine, And kindling Love within its great heart glow ; That golden Peace might reign On earth again, In final conquest over Strife and Woe. O, that the world would ring To bid the King Arise and build His everlasting throne, Ascend on princely feet, Assume His seat, And claim the willing nations as His own. With highest, holiest yearnings thus, Come hallowed Christmas unto us— O Christmas of the South !

S. Clarke-Johnson.