Page TWO
THE PILOT—Southern Pines, North Carolina
Thursday, December 26, i963
ILOT
Southern Pines
North Carolina
'YS
“In taking over The Pilot no changes are contemplated. We will try to keep this a good
paper. We will try to make a little money fjr all concerned. Wherever there seems to be
an occasion to use our influence for the public good we will try to do it. And we will
treat everj’body alike.” — James Boyd, May 23, 1941.
Lully, lulla, thou little
tiny child.
Bye, bye, lully, lullay.
Thou little tiny child'.
Bye, bye, lully, lullay.
A Prayer for Christmas
Lord, make me an instrument of Thy peace. Where there
is hatred, let me sow love. Where there is doubt, faith. Where
there is despair, hope. Where there is darkness, light. And
where there is sadness, joy.
O Divine Master, grant that I may not so much seek to
be consoled as to console; to be understood as to understand;
to be loved, as to love; for it is in giving that we receive, it is in
pardoning that we are pardoned, and it is in dying that we
are born to eternal life.
O sisters two,
Bow may we do
for to preserve this day
'his poor youngling
or whom we do sing.
Ve bye, lully, lullay.
"“*>■1
brod the king
Iihis raging,
Carged he hath this day
Hi men of might,
Iniis own sight,
Alyoung children to slay.
Thi woe is me,
Poc, child, for thee,
Ancever mourn we may
Forhy parting,
Neiler say nor sing.
Bye ye, lully, lullay.
This prayer was written
more than 700 years ago by
ST. FRANCIS OF ASSISI
Good Christian Men, Rejoice!
SPEAKING STILL—ACROSS THE CENTURIES
Good Christian men, rejoice with heart, and soul, and voice;
Give ye heed to what we say; Jesus Christ is bom today:
Ox and ass before Him bow. He is in the manger now.
Christ is bom today! Christ is born today!
Good Christian men, rejoice with heart, and soul, and voice;
Tidings hear of fullest bliss: Jesus Christ was born for this:
Unto you both way and' door—life and light for evermore.
Christ was born for this! Christ was born for this!
Through nearly five centuries come these two expressions of
one of the wonderful meanings of Christmas—^the tender relationship
of mother and child. The painting, now in the Metropolitan Museum
of Art, is “The Madonna and Child” by Vincenzo Foppa, Milanese
of the 15th and early 16th centuries: those same years in which the
“Coventry Carol” originated and was sung in England. Each, in its
way, speaks to us as clearly now as when it was created—enduring
tributes to the significance of Christmas.
Lullay
Good Christian men, rejoice with heart, and soul, and voice;
Lo the message which ye crave: Jesus Christ was born to save.
Born to bring to men good will, fainting hearts with hope to fill.
Christ was born to save! Christ was bom to save!
Lullay, my child, and weep no more;
Sleep and be now still.
The King of bliss Thy Father is.
And thus it is His will.
The oventry Carol, pro
bably ti best known of all
early Uabies, comes from
the mysry plays produced
in Covety, England,
throughq, the fifteenth and
some of 1e sixteenth centur
ies. By 111, when this carol
was firsbxanslated by one
Thomas low Mawdycke,
carols hadost their position
in religiouiworship and sur-
vied only i religious d'rama.
In the plajproduced by the
Guild of Slirsmen and Tai
lors occurs lis lullaby sung
by three when just before
Herod slaugers their chil
dren. They bent that they
are permitte no lullay at
parting.
Translation by JOHN M. NEALE, 1853
The Messenger
O Give Us Love
The Candle In The Darkness
What tidings bringest thou, messenger.
Of Christ’s birth this New Year’s day?
A babe is born of high nature.
Is Prince of peace and ever shall be;
Of heaven and earth He hath the cure.
His lordship is eternity.
Such wonder tidings ye may hear.
What tidings bringest thou, messenger?
That man is made now God’s fere.
Whom sin had made but fiends’ prey.
How shall we love thee, holy hidden being.
If we love not the world which thou hast
made?
O give us brother-love for better seeing
Thy word made flesh and in a manger laid;
Thy kingdom come, O Lord, Thy will be done.
The late William T. Polk, longtime editor of The Greensboro Daily Nfs
and eloquent interpreter of the North Carolina scene, captured much of e
magic of Christmas in seven short paragraphs. They first appeared in le
Pilot on a Christmas editorial page eight years ago:
-A. E. HOUSMAN
What Sweeter Music?
CHRISTMAS is the star on top of the tree. It is a carol in the nigh It
is the gift of a cloak when a coat was asked.
It IS gold, frankincense and myrrh to the needy, the humble and le
sorrowing.
It is a present of Truth wrapped in Beauty. It is “good tidings f
great joy” to a wicked, weary and incredulous world.
A seemly sight it is to see:
The byrd that hath this babe y-born
Conceived a lord of high degree.
And maiden as she was beforn.
Such wonder tidings ye may hear.
What tidings bringest thou, messenger?
That maid and mother is one y-fere
And alway lady of high array.
What sweeter music can we bring
Than a carol for to sing
The birth of this our heavenly King?
Awake the voice! awake the string!
Heart, ear, and eye, and everything.
Awake! the while the active finger
Runs division with the singer.
CHRISTMAS is a stocking hung with Faith and filled by Love. It
homecoming, the orange glow of an open door on the blue snow shadov
with well-remembered faces in the background.
It is the night depository in which pa:st-due payments are made on debt
of friendship and love which have accumulated during the year.
CHRISTMAS is an inspired insight into the joy of life at the core oi
the universe.
This maid began to greet her child.
And said; Hail, Son, hail. Father dear!
He said: Hail, Mother, hail. Maiden mild!
This greeting was in quaint manner.
Such wonder tidings ye may hear.
What tidings bringest thou, messenger?
Their greeting was in such manner.
It turned man’s pain to play.
A wopder thing is now befall:
That Lord that formed star and sun.
Heaven and earth and angels all.
Now in mankind is begun.
Such wonder tidings ye may hear.
What tidings bringest thou, messenger?
A babe that is not of one year
Ever hath y-be and shall be ay.
Dark and dull night, fly hence away.
And give the honor to this day
That sees December turned to May.
CHRISTMAS is the candle in the darkness which no whirlwind can
blow out. It is a song from a star, a halo in a stable.
—WILLIAM T. POLK
If we ask the reason, say
The why and wherefore all things here
Seem like the springtime of the year.
Why does the chilling winter morn
Smile like a field beset with corn,
Or smell like to a mead new shorn.
Thus on a sudden? Come and see
The cause why things thus fragrant be:
’Tis He is bom, whose quick’ning birth
Gives life and luster, public mirth
To heaven, and the under earth.
-Old English
We see Him come, and know Him ours.
Who with His sunshine and His showers
Turns all the patient ground to flowers.
9)
Shy Hearts
Tonight when the hoar frost falls on the wood.
And the rabbit cowers, and the squirrel is cold.
And the horned owl huddles against a star.
And the drifts are deep, and the year is old.
All shy creatures will think of Him.
The shivering mouse, the hare, the wild young
fox.
The d'oe with the startled fawn.
Will dream of gentleness and a Child:
The Darling of the world is come.
And fit it is we find a room
To welcome Him. The nobler part
Of all the house here is the heart.
Which we will give Him, and bequeath
This holly and this ivy wreath.
To do Him honor, who’s our King,
And Lord of all this revelling.
' V
/V
-ROBERT HERRICK
(1591-1674)
The buck with budding horns will turn
His starry eyes to a silver hill tonight.
The chipmunk will awake and stir
And leave his burrow for the chill, dark mid
night.
And all timid things will pause and sigh, and
sighing, bless
That Child who loves the trembling hearts.
The shy hearts of the wilderness.
Proface!
Proface, welcome, welcome!
This time is borne a child of grace.
That for us mankind hath take.
Proface!
-FRANCES FROST
A king’s son and an emperor
Is come out of a maiden’s tower.
With us to dwell with great honor,
Proface!
’Tis The Season To Be Jolly...
For anyone who craves a deep
draft of Christmas spirit,
GRAINS recommends attendance
at the local school’s Christmas
concert. Only it will have to be
next year’s concert because this
year’s has been. ^
So: take Time by the forelock—
even though this does always
seem a rather impertinent act
and put it down as a MUST in
your 1964 calendar. And the first
thing to do is to plan to get there
early.
As we approached Weaver Au
ditorium last week on a cold,
cold morning, we could hear the
band tuning up. The exciting
sounds of horns tooting, piccolos
pickling, tubas tubing—and so on
—made your breath quicken. No
time to lose, obviously, with all
that excitement rising, note by
note.
Sit inside in the back row and
watch and listen and you feel the
Christmas spirit all ready to burst
forth.
The band, bobbing heads, glit
tering brass, is warming up with
all manner of exhilarating toots
and twiddles, while, just below
the stage, one of the girl accom
panists for the glee club is lim
bering up her fingers with runs
and trills and the chords of some
of the carols to be sung.
Catching enthusiasm from all
of this todo, the sounds on stage
grow louder, more stentorian.
Suddenly you wonder: is there an
elephant up there? Only an ele
phant would be capable of pro
ducing such ghastly tootings. The
big horn’s voice goes down, down,
basso profundo, right off the end
of the keyboard.
And there he is, standing up. It
seems Jumbo has caught sight of
the pianist down there, trilling
away. Cautiously he teeters care
fully toward the edge of the stage,
the huge brass horn nodding up
there over his shoulder lil^e a
howdah. Now he is right above
the piano. Gloatingly he waits
till the trills subside and modu
late into the soft, sweet opening
chords of “Silent Night.” That’s
his moment: Jumbo let’s go with
an ear-splitting “GRRRBRUMP!”
The pianist jumps a foot off
her stool. Rage in every lina of
her figure, she draws herself up
and “SHUT UP!” she yells.
“RRRRRRUMP!” retorts Jum
bo, rocking with glee.
' Up she j'umps again, fists
clenched: “Shut UP!”
-JumtKT-grins. B^L-ttu£5e., iy-d'
sudden subdiieil" loot of warning
behind him. He glances back, then
retreats hastily to a dignified
stance at the back of the stage as
Director McAdams strolls out of
the wings.
A splendid start to a fine con
cert, with the Christmas spirit
soaring all the way.
The band did themselves
proud, with Jumbo, a reformed
character, majestically carry
ing the foundation bass. There
was imusual sweetness in the
tones of all the instruments, good
attack and sureness of pitch.
Their opening number was
beautifully harmonious; the sec
ond was tlie Anderson “Sleigh-
ride" with its jingle bells and
downward swoop at the last, as
they all piled up in the drift.
Then came a medley of carols with
good arrangements, weU played,
and then the glee club took over.
They did a good job on Handel’s
difficult Messiah choruses, ham
pered only by some weakness in
the male section. (They needed
Jumbo badly.)
The alleluias were rising higher
and higher in Weaver Auditorium
behind us, as we drove back
down the hill. The tone was the
embodiment of the Christmas
spirit, choirs of angels singing in
exultation.
THE PILOT
Published Every Thursday by
THE PILOT, Incorporated
Southern Pines. North Carolina
1941—JAMES BOYD—1944
Bid The Day
Thou whose birth on earth
Angels sang to men.
While Thy stars made mirth.
Saviour, at Thy birth,
This day born again.
This holy time of Christmas
All sorrow and sin we should release.
And cast away all heaviness.
Proface!
Bid our peace increase.
Thou that madest mom;
Bid oppressions cease,
Bid the night be peace.
Bid the day be born.
This good lord of this place entire
Saith welcome to all that now appear.
Unto such fare as ye find here.
And look ye all be of good cheer.
Our Lord God be at our dinner!
Proface!
-A. C. SWINBURNE
Proface—an expression of good will
derived from the old French “bon pour
vous fasse” (may it do you good).
Every family has its special
stories of the family Christmas.
The funny things that happened;
the year the tree nearly came
down; the time the dogs ate some
of the carefully wrapped pack
ages—at least the wrapping—
with fearful results, and the visit
ing cat that tried to climb the
tree.
We recall with special jtoy the
time when the house was over
flowing with children, relatives
and guests euid an extra effort
had been made that added a new
note to the day.
•The tree, decorated Christmas
Eve, was more wonderful than
ever, the house was hung with
greens and holly, there were at
least fifteen stocldngs, bulging at
all sorts of peculiar angles, hung
from the mantle. 'When all was
ready, down to the last tiny jack-
in-the-box and red Santa, the
workers took one last look be
fore crawling up to bed.
“It’s the prettiest one we’ve
ever fixed,” they told each other,
and then Dad mentioned, as they
went upstairs, that he’d told the
current yardman to put a couple
of trash baskets handy to throw
wrappings in and keep things
reasonably tidy.
It was the custom in this house
for all to gather outside the big
room and then march in together.
Early Christmas morning the
crowd lined up, everybody on tip
toe waiting for the signal. Finally
the door was flung open and:
“Oh!” said everybody, and then:
“Oh, my goodness!” said Dad.
There was the beautiful green-
trimmed mantle, the glittering
tree, the stockings, the piles of
brightly wrapped presents—and
right in the very center stood two
huge shiny garbage cans.
The good man who had placed
them there had decided that it
would need much more than two
trash baskets to hold all the mess,
and had gone to work cleaning
and shining up the two household
garbage cans as fitting recep
tacles for Christmas morning.
So: “’Tis the season to be jolly!’’
sang everybody, -“Fala-la-la-la,
la-la, la-la,” and they grabbed
hands and danced around the gar
bage cans.
Katharine Boyd
C. Benedict
Dan S. Ray
C, G. Council
Bessie C. Smith
Editor
Associate Editor
Gen. Mgr.
Advertising
Advertising
Mary Scott Newton Business
Mary Evelyn de Nissoff Society
Composing Room
■Jixie B. Ray, Michael Valen,
’homas Mattocks, J. E. Pate, Sr.,
lharles Weatherspoon, Clyde
hipps.
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