by Eugene Field
Sing, Christmas bells!
Say to the earth this is the morn
Whereon our Savior-King is born ;
Sing to all men,--the bond, the free,
The rich, the poor, the high, the low,
The little child that sports in glee,
The aged folk that tottering go,--
Proclaim the morn
That Christ is born,
That saveth them and saveth me!
Sing angel host!
Sing of the star that God has placed
Above the manger in the East ;
Sing of the glories of the night,
The virgin's sweet humility,
The Babe with kingly robes bedlight,--
Sing to all men where'er they be
This Christmas morn;
For Christ is born,
That saveth them and saveth me!
Sing, sons of earth!
O ransomed seed of Adam, sing!
God liveth, and we have a king!
The curse is gone, the bond are free --
By Bethlehem's star that brightly beamed,
By all the heavenly signs that be,
We know that Israel is redeemed ;
That on this morn
The Christ is born
That saveth you and saveth me!
Sing, O my heart!
Sing thou in rapture this dear morn
Whereon the blessed Prince is born!
And as thy songs shall be of love,
So let my deeds be charity, --
By the dear Lord that reigns above,
By Him that died upon the tree,
By this fair morn
Whereon is born
The Christ that saveth all and me!
