(Luke 2:11.)

The angels stirred nocturnal plains
With heaven's glad announcing strains-
They heralded the Saviour's birth,
The Son of God come down to earth.
Our race was lost, and He would save,
And so in love Himself He gave.
Ye saints, His matchless worth proclaim,
And through the earth broadcast His name.

The shepherds' hearts were charged with fear
As that immortal choir drew near,
Those fiery cohorts of the throne
Sped forth to make the tidings known,
That Christ to earth a Saviour came,
Poor guilty sinners to reclaim!
The stillness of that night-robed hour
Gave to their message solemn power.

Ye saints, do like the angel host-
Make CHRIST your message and your boast;
Tell out His love, make known His grace,
Proclaim Him to our fallen race.
The Father too was heard to cry
His honors from the open sky;
And shall our tongues His praise withhold?
O shame on us if love be cold!

O saints of God, awake, awake!
Christ soon shall come His church to take.
The angels said on that famed day,
When from His own He soared away,
That in like manner He'd return.
Bright hope, that makes the bosom burn!
O glorious day! O blissful hour,
When by our Lord's translating power,
We'll reach our Father's Home!

C. C, Crowston