Blow, bugles of battle, the marches of peace;
  East, west, north, and south let the long quarrel cease;
  Sing the song of great joy that the angels began,
  Sing of glory to God and of good-will to man!
A Christmas Carmen.  J.G.  WHITTIER.

  Oh, come, all ye faithful! 
    Triumphantly sing! 
  Come, see in the manger
    The angels’ dread King! 
  To Bethlehem hasten
    With joyful accord;
  Oh, hasten, oh, hasten,
    To worship the Lord!
Christmas Day.  Unknown Latin Author. Trans. of E. CASWELL.

  God rest ye, merry gentlemen; let nothing you dismay,
  For Jesus Christ, our Saviour, was born on Christmas-day. 
  The dawn rose red o’er Bethlehem, the stars shone through the gray,
  When Jesus Christ, our Saviour, was born on Christmas-day.
A Christmas Carol.  D.M.  MULOCK CRAIK.

  Now thrice-welcome Christmas, which brings us good cheer. 
  Minced pies and plum porridge, good ale and strong beer,
  With pig, goose, and capon, the best that may be,—­
  So well doth the weather and our stomachs agree.... 
  But those on whose tables no victuals appear,
  O, may they keep Lent all the rest of the year!
Poor Robin’s Almanack, 1695.

CHURCH.

  Lord of the worlds above,
    How pleasant and how fair
  The dwellings of thy love. 
    Thine earthly temples, are! 
      To thine abode
        My heart aspires,
        With warm desires
      To see my God.
The House of God.  W. COWPER.

  “What is a church?” Let Truth and Reason speak,
  They would reply, “The faithful, pure and meek,
  From Christian folds, the one selected race,
  Of all professions, and in every place.”
The Borough, Letter II.  G. CRABBE.

Spires whose “silent fingers point to heaven.” The Excursion, Bk.  VI, W. Wordsworth.

  I love thy church, O God: 
    Her walls before thee stand,
  Dear as the apple of thine eye,
    And graven on thy hand.

* * * * *

  For her my tears shall fall,
    For her my prayers ascend;
  To her my cares and toils be given,
    Till toils and cares shall end.
Love to the Church.  T. Dwight.

                As some to Church repair,
  Not for the doctrine, but the music there.
Essay on Criticism.  A. Pope.

  Who builds a church to God, and not to fame,
  Will never mark the marble with his name.
Moral Essays, Epistle III.  A. Pope.

CITY.

God the first garden made, and the first city Cain. The Garden, Essay V.  A. Cowley.

  I live not in myself, but I become
  Portion of that around me; and to me
  High mountains are a feeling, but the hum
  Of human cities torture.
Childe Harold, Canto III.  Lord Byron.