From The Sun, December 27, 1914. By McLandburgh Wilson.

There are columns to be riven
    In the very face of hell,
And the wild dumb beasts are driven
    To their doom of shot and shell.
But above the shriek of battle
    And the chargers’ dying woe
Sounds the lowing of the cattle
    In a manger long ago.

There is midnight on the nations,
    There is hate instead of love.
And the guns’ reverberations
    Shake the vaulted skies above.
But beyond the thunders ringing
    As the foe replies to foe
We can hear the angels singing
    On a midnight long ago.