Twelve sunken ships in Selker's Bay
Rose up; and, righting soon,
With mast and sail stretched far away
Beneath the midnight moon.
They sailed right out to Bethlehem;
And soon they reached the shore.
They steered right home from Bethlehem;
And these the freights they bore.
The first one bore the frankincense;
The second bore the myrrh;
The third the gifts and tribute pence
The Eastern Kings did bear.
The fourth ship bore a little palm
Meet for an infant's hands;
The fifth the spikenard and the balm;
The sixth the swathing bands.
The seventh ship bore without a speck,
A mantle fair and clean;
The eighth the shepherds on her deck
With heavenward eyes serene.
One bore the announcing Angel's song;
One Simeon's glad record;
And one the bright seraphic throng
Whose tongues good tidings poured.
And midst them all, one, favoured more,
Whereon a couch was piled,
The blessed Hebrew infant bore,
On whom the Virgin smiled.
They sailed right into Selker's Bay:
And when the night was worn
To dawning grey, far down they lay,
Again that Christmas morn.
But through the brushwood low and clear
Came chimes and songs of glee,
That Christmas morning, to my ear
Beneath Kirk-sunken Tree.
Not from the frosty air above,
But from the ground below,
Sweet voices carolled songs of love,
And merry bells did go.
From out a City great and fair
The joyous life up-flow'd,
Which once had breathed the living air,
And on the earth abode.
A City far beneath my feet
By passing ages laid;
Or buried while the busy street
Its round of life convey'd.
So to the ground I bent an ear,
That heard, as from the grave,
The blessed Feast-time of the year
Tell out the joy it gave;
The gladness of the Christmas morn.
O fair Kirk-Sunken Tree!
One day in every year's return
Those sounds flow up by thee.
They chime up to the living earth
The joy of them below,
At tidings of the Saviour's birth
In Bethlehem long ago.