Christened: Au­gust 17, 1856, St. Mar­tin’s, Birm­ing­ham, Eng­land.

Died: Ap­ril 30, 1950.

Buried: St. Os­wald’s church­yard, Flam­bo­rough, York­shire, Eng­land.


Isabella was the daugh­ter of John Post­gate and Ma­ry Ann Hor­wood.

She was liv­ing in 1861, 1871 and 1881 (and prob­ab­ly 1856) in Edg­bas­ton, near Birm­ing­ham. By 1901, she was in South­port, Lan­ca­shire, and by 1911 in Rus­warp, West-Cliff, Whit­by, York­shire.




How calm lies each hill and green valley
Hushed into a silence deep,
While earth holds her sleeping children
As still as her folded sheep!

In wonder and rapt adoration
All Heaven expectant waits,
Till the bright-winged herald full gladly
Shall pass through its shining gates.

To plains where the flocks are resting,
Swift speeding at God’s command,
He draweth night’s dark purple curtain
Aside with a gentle hand.

Behold, then, how glories of Hea­ven
Through the rifted ether pour!
O list to a jubilant chorus
That echoes forevermore!

For God, in His wonderful mercy,
Peace and goodwill hath given;
For us men and our salvation
The Word hath come from Heaven.

O hasten to Bethlehem’s stable
Where shineth the heavenly light!
Turn aside with the gladsome shepherds
To see this most wondrous sight!

How He lieth at rest in a manger,
Cradled with beasts of the field,
The glory and might of His Godhead
In lowliest guise concealed;

Who, leaving His throne in high Hea­ven
A stranger on earth to roam,
Came down as our flesh and our brother
To bring the King’s banished home.

No scepter or purple of monarch
His state as a king reveal,
Yet here, in the might of God’s presence,
Veiled seraphs in worship kneel.

And we, His own ransomed children,
In His love have yet dearer part—
Brought nearer to Him than the angels,
Let us give to Him all our heart.

Adapted from Isabella Postgate
A Christmas Legend, 1889



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