Ring Those Christmas Bells - by Joylene M. Bailey

I love Christmas carols. I love how, for about 6 weeks of the year, believers and non-believers alike are singing praises and glo-o-o-o-o-oooo-o-o-o-o-oooo-o-o-o-o-ooorias.

Secular radio stations are dashing through the snow to deck the halls, asking Santa Baby for yachts and diamond rings, and wondering how on earth Grandma could get run over by a reindeer. 

But they are also proclaiming Therefore, Christian men, be sure, wealth or rank possessing, ye who now will bless the poor, shall yourselves find blessing.

                                           And

O morning stars, together proclaim the holy birth! And praises sing to God the King, and peace to men on earth.

And

O come let us adore Him, Christ the Lord.

Even Charlie Brown sings “Glory to the newborn King”!

What kind of weird and wonderful world IS this?? That Christ’s name should be heard and sung by people who haven’t yet grasped the miraculous idea of God’s precious life-giving, soul-saving gift.

It makes me wonder as I wander, and giggle like a babe in Toyland.

Yet some could say that it isn’t the most wonderful time of the year, 2015. It’s not a yum-yummy world made for sweethearts. They would agree with Henry Wadsworth Longfellow’s words, “There is no peace on earth, I said”.

 When Longfellow penned the words to his poem “Christmas Bells” on December 25, 1864, he was still grieving the death of his wife, Fanny. She had been fatally burned in an accident 3 years before, on the very same day that the first shot of the American Civil War was fired. In 1862 his journal entry for Christmas Day reads, “ ‘A merry Christmas’ say the children, but that is no more for me.”

In 1863 he learned that his oldest son, Charles, had been severely wounded in battle.

So in 1864, Longfellow’s world was not at peace either, and hadn’t been for years. What’s more, he had been personally affected by the war.  

He wrote seven stanzas to his poem that Christmas Day in 1864. Two of them are never sung in our version of “I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day” but I think they are important to include because they give us a good idea of Longfellow’s world, which strikingly parallels our own. They help us to understand why he said, “there is no peace on earth”, and to remind us that “God is not dead, nor doth He sleep”.

In our writers group this month we were challenged to write a new verse to a favourite Christmas carol. 

(I encourage my fellow Inscribers to try this fun exercise.)

The words “there is no peace on earth, I said” resonated so much with me that I did some research on the song and then added my own verse at the end – my proclamation in response to the stanzas before it.

Christmas Bells


(Longfellow’s original poem, complete with all seven stanzas, and an extra one added at the end by Joylene M. Bailey)



I heard the bells on Christmas Day


Their old familiar carols play,


And wild and sweet


The words repeat


Of peace on earth, good-will to men!




 

And thought how, as the day had come,


The belfries of all Christendom


Had rolled along


The unbroken song


Of peace on earth, good-will to men!




Till, ringing, singing on its way,


The world revolved from night to day,


A voice, a chime


A chant sublime


Of peace on earth, good-will to men!




Then from each black accursed mouth


The cannon thundered in the South,


And with the sound


The carols drowned


Of peace on earth, good-will to men!




It was as if an earthquake rent


The hearth-stones of a continent,


And made forlorn


The households born


Of peace on earth, good-will to men!




And in despair I bowed my head;


"There is no peace on earth," I said;


"For hate is strong,


And mocks the song


Of peace on earth, good-will to men!"




Then pealed the bells more loud and deep: 


"God is not dead; nor doth he sleep!


The Wrong shall fail,


The Right prevail,


With peace on earth, good-will to men!"

Now let me gather up my faith.

My God’s at work; His love is great.

Loud let bells ring,

And I will sing,

Of Peace on earth, good-will to men!

God is not dead, nor doth He sleep. He’s still at work. He’s still Love. He’s still in charge.

So rest ye merry, Inscribers, let nothing you dismay. Remember, Christ, our Saviour, was born upon this day: to save us all from Satan’s power when we were gone astray.

O tidings of comfort and joy, comfort and joy.

O tidings of comfort and joy.

Victorian Carolers

photo credit: <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/10199807@N00/5198987752">Holland Christmas Open House</a> via <a href="http://photopin.com">photopin</a> <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/2.0/">(license)</a>

Charlie brown

http://thefw.com/files/2011/12/a-charlie-brown-christmas1.jpg

Longfellow

photo credit: <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/28567825@N03/3429414720">Henry Wadsworth Longfellow</a> via <a href="http://photopin.com">photopin</a> <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/">(license)</a>

Carolers

http://o.aolcdn.com/photo-hub/news_gallery/6/9/695353/1290190475673.JPEG

Song Of The Bells ~ by Marcia Janson

Childhood memories tend to come to me in vignettes, often with very little context in which to interpret them.  They are like small ice chunks that have broken away from a glacier, bobbing along on the surface of a spring thaw river.

Sometimes when I catch sight of them, I pluck them out and have a look-see. The Christmas bits are particularly compelling. Nostalgia gives them a crystalline sparkle and I enjoy caressing the smooth, time-eroded surfaces. I catch a glimpse of my siblings and me decorating the tree with miniature carousel ornaments that twirl round at the slightest breath of air. Snow ball-shaped lights frame the picture window and crackling wood radiates warmth from the fireplace.

I remember the thrill of anticipation over the special gift “Santa” would bring and the soft, buttery taste of Mom’s shortbread. And there was the excitement of staying up very late to go to Midnight Mass on Christmas Eve. I loved being in the children’s chorus, singing carols from our perch up in the choir loft. We had a grandstand view of the magical, life-size manger scene at the front of the sanctuary.

 When I was ten years old, we moved to the other side of town. There was no midnight service in the church there, so we stayed home. How we spent the evening is not part of my memory flow, but one vignette from that Christmas Eve has stayed with me all my life. 

It was quite late and I was lying snugly in bed, my little sister sleeping peacefully nearby. All was quiet in the house and my mind, over-stimulated by holiday activity, was trying to process everything. All the anxieties and excitements of the day clamoured for attention and I was trying to tuck them away so I could settle down and fall sleep.

And then I heard the church bells.  A waterfall of notes cascaded through the darkness and settled into a tune I recognized.

Silent night, holy night.

All is calm, all is bright….

 I sang the words quietly to myself as carol after carol pealed out and something hidden way down inside me started to let go and relax.

Oh holy night! The stars are brightly shining.

It is the night of the dear Saviour’s birth.

Long lay the world in sin and error pining

Till he appeared and the soul felt its worth...

I don’t think that my ten-year old self had any astounding theological revelations that night. But I do believe that God rejoiced and sang over me in the music of the bells. And, as the carol proclaims, my “soul felt its worth”. 

Isn't that what we all need? May the Lord sing over you as you celebrate the advent of His Son into our world.

Sleep in heavenly peace,

Sleep in heavenly peace.

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Photo credits
Icy river: http://www.flickr.com/photos/nicmcphee/916741349/
Nativity scene: http://www.flickr.com/photos/16502322@N03/6568703575/
Star: http://www.flickr.com/photos/the-maestros/352417169/