Holly Berries.

Let them grace our happy homes
With their crimson light,
Mingling with the sombre fir,
And the laurel bright.

Keenly blows the icy wind,
Shorter grows the day,
Winter scatters cold and gloom
In his dreary play.

Yet we love the closing years
For the joy they bring,
And the holy memories
That round the holly cling.

Holly berries, holly berries,

Red and bright and beaming,
Through the dusky evergreens
Like sprays of coral gleaming;
Ye have power to fill the heart
With memories of glee:

Oh, what happy thoughts can cling
Round the holly tree!

5

C. M. P.

CHRISTMAS HYMN.

JALM on the listening ear of night
Come heaven's melodious strains,
Where wild Judea stretches far
Her silver-mantled plains.

Celestial choirs from courts above

Shed sacred glories there;

And angels with their sparkling harps Make music on the air.

The answering hills of Palestine
Send back a glad reply;

And greet, from all their holy heights,
The Dayspring from on high.

On the blue depths of Galilee
There comes a holier calm,
And Sharon waves in solemn praise
Her silent groves of palm.

Christmas Hymn.

Glory to God! the sounding skies
Loud with their anthems ring
Peace to the earth-good will to men
From heaven's Eternal King!

Light on thy hills, Jerusalem!

The Saviour now is born!

And bright on Bethlehem's joyous plains
Breaks the first Christmas morn.

E. H. SEARS.

7

WINTER.

REARY old Winter! weary old Winter!

Snow-blanched carl, all dripping and chill; Ice chains have bound thee, winds whistle round thee,

Heavily, gloomily, plodding on still.

Yet when we meet thee, kindly we greet thee-
Sit by thy hearth blaze and melt all thy snow;
With wassail and gladness we'll charm all thy sadness,
Make thy eye brighten, thy icy blood glow.

Dreary old Winter! weary old Winter!

We'll make thy eye brighten, thy icy blood glow.

Cheery old Winter! merry old Winter!

Laugh, while with yule-wreath thy temples are bound; Drain the spiced bowl now, cheer thy old soul now, "Christmas waes hael!" pledge the holy toast round. Broach butt and barrel; with dance and with carol Crown we old Winter of revels the king;

And when he is weary of living so merry,

He'll lie down and die on the green lap of Spring.
Cheery old Winter! merry old Winter!
He'll lie down and die on the green lap of Spring.
JOHN FRANCIS WALLER.

OW heavily the path of life

Is trod by him who walks alone; Who hears not, on his dreary way, Affection's sweet and cheering tone; Alone, although his heart should bound With love to all things great and fair, They love not him,-there is not one His sorrow or his joy to share.

The ancient stars look coldly down
On man, the creature of a day;
They lived before him, and live on

Till his remembrance pass away.
The mountain lifts its hoary head,

Nor to his homage deigns reply; The stormy billows bear him forth,

Regardless which-to live or die.