The Pilgrim （A Christmas Legend for Children）
The shades of night were brooding O'er the sea, the earth, the sky； The passing winds were wailing1 In a low, unearthly sigh； The darkness gathered deeper, For no starry2 light was shed, And silence reigned3 unbroken, As the silence of the dead.
The wintry clouds were hanging From the starless sky so low, While 'neath them earth lay folded In a winding4 shroud5 of snow. 'Twas cold, 'twas dark, 'twas dreary6, And the blast that swept along The mountains hoarsely7 murmured A fierce, discordant8 song.
And mortal men were resting From the turmoil9 of the day, And broken hearts were dreaming Of the friends long passed away； And saintly men were keeping Their vigils through the night, While angel spirits hovered10 near Around their lonely light.
And wicked men were sinning In the midnight banquet halls, Forgetful of that sentence traced On proud Belshazzar's walls. On that night, so dark and dismal12, Unillumed by faintest ray, Might be seen the lonely pilgrim Wending on his darksome way.
Slow his steps, for he was weary, And betimes he paused to rest； Then he rose, and, pressing onward13, Murmured lowly "I must haste." In his hand he held a chaplet, And his lips were moved in prayer, For the darkness and the silence Seemed to whisper God was there.
On the lonely pilgrim journeyed, Nought14 disturbed him on his way, And his prayers he softly murmured As the midnight stole away. Hark！ amid the stillness rises On his ears a distant strain Softly sounding -now it ceases —— Sweetly now it comes again.
In his path he paused to wonder While he listened to the sound On it came, so sweet, so pensive15, 'Mid11 the blast that howled around； And the restless winds seemed soothed16 By that music, gentle, mild, And they slept, as when a mother Rocks to rest her cradled child.
Strange and sweet the calm that followed, Stealing through the midnight air； Strange and sweet the sounds that floated Like an angel breathing there. From the sky the clouds were drifting Swiftly one by one away, And the sinless stars were shedding Here and there a silver ray.
"Why this change？" the pilgrim whispered —— "Whence that music？ whence its power？ Earthly sounds are not so lovely！ Angels love the midnight hour！" Bending o'er his staff, he wondered, Loath17 to leave that sacred place "I must hasten," said he, sadly ——On he pressed with quickened pace.
Just before him rose a mountain, Dark its outline, steep its side -Down its slopes that midnight music Seemed so soothingly18 to glide19. "I will find it," said the pilgrim, "Though this mountain I must scale" -Scarcely said, when on his vision Shone a distant light, and pale.
Glad he was； and now he hastened —— Brighter, brighter grew the ray —— Stronger, stronger swelled20 the music As he struggled on his way. Soon he gained the mountain summit, Lo！ a church bursts on his view From the church that light was flowing, And that gentle music, too.
Near he came —— its door stood open —— Still he stood in awe21 and fear； "Shall I enter spot so holy？ Am I unforbidden here？ I will enter -something bids me ——Saintly men are praying here； Vigils sacred they are keeping, 'Tis their Matin song I hear."
Softly, noiselessly, he glided22 Through the portal； on his sight Shone a vision, bright, strange, thrilling； Down he knelt —— 'twas Christmas night
-Down, in deepest adoration23, Knelt the lonely pilgrim there； Joy unearthly, rapture24 holy, Blended with his whispered prayer. Wrapped his senses were in wonder, On his soul an awe profound, As the vision burst upon him, 'Mid sweet light and sweeter sound. "Is it real？ is it earthly？ Is it all a fleeting25 dream？ Hark！ those choral voices ringing, Lo！ those forms like angels seem."
On his view there rose an altar, Glittering 'mid a thousand beams, Flowing from the burning tapers26 In bright, sparkling, silver streams. From unnumbered crystal vases, Rose and bloomed the fairest flowers, Shedding 'round their balmy fragrance27 'Mid the lights in sweetest showers. Rich and gorgeous was the altar, Decked it was in purest white. Mortal hands had not arrayed it Thus, upon that Christmas night. Amid its lights and lovely flowers, The little tabernacle stood； Around it all was rich and golden, It alone was poor and rude.
Hark！ Venite Adoremus！ Round the golden altar sounds —— See that band of angels kneeling Prostrate28, with their sparkling crowns！ And the pilgrim looked and listened, And he saw the angels there, And their snow-white wings were folded, As they bent29 in silent prayer.
Twelve they were； bright rays of glory Round their brows effulgent30 shone； But a wreath of nobler beauty Seemed to grace and circle one； And he, beauteous, rose and opened Wide the tabernacle door Hark！ Venite Adoremus Rises —— bending, they adore.
Lo！ a sound of censers swinging！ Clouds of incense31 weave around The altar rich a silver mantle32, As the angels' hymns34 resound35. List！ Venite Adoremus Swells36 aloud in stronger strain, And the angels swing the censers, And they prostrate bend again.
Rising now, with voice of rapture, Bursts aloud, in thrilling tone, "Gloria in Excelsis Deo" Round the sacramental throne. Oh！ 'twas sweet, 'twas sweet and charming As the notes triumphant37 flowed！ Oh！ 'twas sweet, while wreathes of incense Curled, and countless38 tapers glowed.
Oh！ 'twas grand！ that hymn33 of glory Earthly sounds cannot compare； Oh！ 'twas grand！ it breath'd of heaven, As the angels sung it there. Ravished by the strains ecstatic, Raptured39 by the vision grand, Gazed the pilgrim on the altar, Gazed upon the angel band.
All was hushed！ the floating echoes Of the hymn had died away； Vanished were the clouds of incense, And the censers ceased to sway. Lo！ their wings are gently waving, And the angels softly rise, Bending towards the tabernacle, Worship beaming from their eyes.
One last, lowly genuflection40！ From their brows love burning shone -Ah！ they're going, they've departed, All but one, the brightest one. "Why remains41 he？" thought the pilgrim, Ah！ he rises beauteously —— "Listen！" and the angel murmured Sweetly "Pilgrim, hail to thee！"
"Come unto the golden altar, I'm an angel —— banish42 fear —— Come, unite in adoration With me, for our God is here. Come thy Jesus here reposes43, Come！ He'll bless thy mortal sight —— Come！ adore the Infant Saviour44 With me —— for 'tis Christmas night."
Now approached the pilgrim, trembling, Now beside the angel bent, And the deepest, blissful gladness, With his fervent45 worship blent. "Pilgrim," said the spirit, softly, "Thou hast seen bright angels here, And hast heard our sacred anthems46, Filled with rapture, filled with fear.
"We are twelve —— 'twas we who chanted First the Saviour's lowly birth, We who brought the joyful47 tidings Of His coming, to the earth； We who sung unto the shepherds, Watching on the mountain height, That the Word was made Incarnate48 For them on that blessed night.
"And since then we love to linger On that festal night on earth； And we leave our thrones of glory Here to keep the Saviour's birth. Happy mortals！ happy mortals！ To-night the angels would be men； And they leave their thrones in heaven, For the Crib of Bethlehem."
And the angel led the pilgrim To the tabernacle door； Lo！ an Infant there was sleeping, And the angel said "Adore！ He is sleeping, yet he watches, See that beam of love divine； Pilgrim！ pay your worship holy To your Infant God and mine."
And the spirit slowly, slowly, Closed the tabernacle door, While the pilgrim lowly, lowly, Bent in rapture to adore. "Pilgrim," spoke49 the angel sweetly, "I must bid thee my adieu； Love！ oh！ love the Infant Jesus！ ——" And he vanished from his view.
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