[Written for the Sentinel]

Tonight

No herald bells proclaim this night
A welcome to the King,
Yet through the darkness of despair
The angels softly sing.

No sound of footsteps hastening
Onward with merry din,
And yet beneath the lowly roofs
The Christ is ent'ring in.

No holly hangs upon the hearths
To greet the Yule-tide guest;
Instead, humanity's great need
With naked, bleeding breast.

No hand is laid upon the wound,
Nor lips are moved in prayer,
And yet the sickness and the sin
Are healed beyond compare.

No need to wait for waning moons
The seasons to unweave
Ere cometh holy Michaelmas—
Tonight is Christmas eve.

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From Our Exchanges
December 20, 1913
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