It is coming, it is coming,
The pines are singing low,
And firesides and altars
Are hung with mistletoe.
I hear the romp of children,
I see them kneel in prayer;
The morning stars are singing,
For ‘tis Christmas everywhere.
From the Transvaal to the Arctic
From the horn to Zuyder-zee,
From Magellan to the Baltic,
From the islands of the sea.
Where the Moslem worships Allah
Where the Arab kneels in prayer,
Where the northman builds his home of ice—
It is coming everywhere.
Where the east unlocks the doors of morn,
To the farthest rim of the West,
There’s a silent hush and peace, goodwill,
Coming up from the world’s unrest.
Oh, Christmas, Christmas, Christmas,
I hear thy music rare;
The world’s wild cry for Bethlehem
Is echoed everywhere
Albert L. Berry
Tryon, Dec. 18, 1925
From the front page of The Polk County News, Tryon, N.C., Thursday, Dec. 24, 1925
newspapers.digitalnc.org/lccn/sn94058241/1925-12-24/ed-1/seq-1/
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