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Christian Christmas Poems

Although Christmas has many traditional roots and has expanded into a holiday for all, the day we call Christmas is one of Christianities most sacred holy days. The day is a celebration of Jesus Christ, son of Mary and God. But, it is also a celebration of Jesus's birth-place, Bethlehem, and the Angels in heaven.

Here are six Christian Christmas poems to help you celebrate this religious holiday.

The New-Year's Gift

Let others look for pearl and gold
Tissues, or tabbies manifold;
One only lock of that sweet hay
Whereon the Blessed Baby lay,
Or one poor swaddling-clout, shall be
The richest New-Year's gift to me.

by Robert Herrick

The Shepherds

   "His place of birth a solemn angel tells
  To simple shepherds keeping watch by night."

by John Milton

In Bethlehem

  In Bethlehem, that noble place,
  As by the Prophet said it was,
  Of the Virgin Mary, filled with grace.
        _Salvator mundi natus est._
        Be we merry in this feast,
        _In quo Salvator natus est._

  On Christmas night an Angel told
  The shepherds watching by their fold,
  In Bethlehem, full nigh the wold,
        "_Salvator mundi natus est._"
        Be we merry in this feast,
        _In quo Salvator natus est._

  The shepherds were encompassed right,
  About them shone a glorious light,
  "Dread ye naught," said the Angel bright,
        "_Salvator mundi natus est._"
        Be we merry in this feast,
        _In quo Salvator natus est._

  "No cause have ye to be afraid,
  For why? this day is Jesus laid
  On Mary's lap, that gentle maid:
        _Salvator mundi natus est._
        Be we merry in this feast,
        _In quo Salvator natus est._

  "And thus in faith find him ye shall
  Laid poorly in an ox's stall."
  The shepherds then lauded God all,
        _Quia Salvator natus est._
        Be we merry in this feast,
        _In quo Salvator natus est._

Attributed to Christmas Carolles, A.D. 1550.

Angel Tidings

  Run, shepherds, run where Bethlehem blest appears.
    We bring the best of news; be not dismayed;
    A Saviour there is born more old than years,
  Amidst heaven's rolling height this earth who stayed.
  In a poor cottage inned, a virgin maid
    A weakling did him bear, who all upbears;
    There is he poorly swaddled, in manger laid,
  To whom too narrow swaddlings are our spheres:
  Run, shepherds, run, and solemnize his birth.
    This is that night--no, day, grown great with bliss,
    In which the power of Satan broken is:
  In Heaven be glory, peace unto the earth!
    Thus singing, through the air the angels swam,
    And cope of stars re-echoéd the same.

by William Drummond

Christmas Alms

  Now that the time is come wherein
    Our Saviour Christ was born,
  The larders full of beef and pork,
    The garners filled with corn;
  As God hath plenty to thee sent,
    Take comfort of thy labors,
  And let it never thee repent
    To feast thy needy neighbors.

  Let fires in every chimney be
    That people they may warm them;
  Tables with dishes covered,--
    Good victuals will not harm them.
  With mutton, veal, beef, pig, and pork,
    Well furnish every board;
  Plum-pudding, furmety, and what
    Thy stock will them afford.

  No niggard of thy liquor be,
    Let it go round thy table;
  People may freely drink, but not
    So long as they are able.
  Good customs they may be abused,
    Which makes rich men to slack us;
  This feast is to relieve the poor,
    And not to drunken Bacchus.

  This, if thou doest,
    'Twill credit raise thee;
  God will thee bless,
    And neighbors praise thee.

Attributed to Poor Robin's Almanac

A Dream Carol

  Ah, my dear Son, said Mary, ah, my dear,
  Kiss thy mother, Jesu, with a laughing cheer!

      This endnes[G] night I saw a sight
        All in my sleep,
      Mary, that May, she sung lullay
        And sore did weep;
      To keep, she sought, full fast about
        Her Son from cold.
      Joseph said, Wife, my joy, my life,
        Say what ye would.
      Nothing, my spouse, is in this house
        Unto my pay;[H]
      My Son a king, that made all thing,
        Lieth in hay.
                Ah, my dear Son! etc.

      My mother dear, amend your cheer
        And now be still;
      Thus for to lie it is soothly
        My Father's will.
      Derision, great passion,
        Infinitely,
      As it is found many a wound
        Suffer shall I;
      On Calvary that is so high
        There shall I be,
      Man to restore, nailéd full sore
        Upon a tree.
                Ah, my dear Son! etc.

Attributed to Sandy's Christmas Carols