Books are a refuge, a sort of cloistral refuge, from the vulgarities of the actual world.

Walter Pater

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I Heard the Bells
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[henry wadsworth longfellow]
 
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
I can hear them
I can hear them
I can hear them
 
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 does He sleep
The wrong shall fail, the right prevail
With peace on Earth, good will to men
 
I can hear You
I can hear You
I can hear You
I could still hear You
The world can hear You