When the Christ Child Came
'Twas Christmas Eve, the snow
Lay deep upon the ground,
The peasants' fire burnt low,
The children shivered round.
Their scanty evening meal,
Lay on the humble board,
But all, with thankful hearts,
Arose and blessed the Lord.
Hark! someone knocks without,
The peasant opens the door—
Who wanders late to-night
Across the bitter moor?
Amid the winter storm
There in the dark He stands,
A Child with wistful eyes
And frozen, lifted hands.
The peasant took him in,
The children wond'ring gaze—
He wiped away the snows,
And warmed Him by the blaze.
There on the seat they loved,
The dear, dead mother's chair,
They broke the bread and gave,
Each of his scanty share.
But while on beds of straw
That night they sleeping lay,
The Child arose and blessed them,
And softly went His way.
Now for each good that comes,
When life seems doubly drear,
They fold their hands and say,
"The Christ Child hath been here."
Lay deep upon the ground,
The peasants' fire burnt low,
The children shivered round.
Their scanty evening meal,
Lay on the humble board,
But all, with thankful hearts,
Arose and blessed the Lord.
Hark! someone knocks without,
The peasant opens the door—
Who wanders late to-night
Across the bitter moor?
Amid the winter storm
There in the dark He stands,
A Child with wistful eyes
And frozen, lifted hands.
The peasant took him in,
The children wond'ring gaze—
He wiped away the snows,
And warmed Him by the blaze.
There on the seat they loved,
The dear, dead mother's chair,
They broke the bread and gave,
Each of his scanty share.
But while on beds of straw
That night they sleeping lay,
The Child arose and blessed them,
And softly went His way.
Now for each good that comes,
When life seems doubly drear,
They fold their hands and say,
"The Christ Child hath been here."
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