Ladies and gentlemen, the DuPont Chorus, under the direction of Frank Clark, sends you its best wishes of the season. These 115 men and women work in DuPont laboratories, offices, and plants in and around Wilmington, Delaware. They are representatives of the company which brings you better things for better living through chemistry. Our program tonight is coming to you from the stage of the Playhouse in Wilmington. With our DuPont Chorus, we present as guest narrator, Mr. Walter Hamden in Christmas in America. Oh, come let us adore him, Christ the Lord. Sing, choirs of angels, sing in exultation, sing all ye sinners and the bane of our Lord in the highest glory, glory to God, glory in the highest. Oh, come let us adore him, Christ the Lord. This is Christmas in America, in the United States of America, in the year of our Lord, 1952. From Madahuasca, in the state of Maine's most northward-reaching spur, to California's San Ysidro on the edge of Mexico. From Astoria in Oregon to the Boca Chica Key. From Beaux Belles in North Dakota to Brownsville on the Gulf, this is the Republic at Christmas time. Let us adore him, Christ the Lord. Sing, choirs of angels, sing in exultation, sing all ye sinners and the bane of our Lord in the highest glory, glory in the highest. Oh, come let us adore him, Christ the Lord. This is Christmas in America, in the United States of America, in the highest glory, glory in the highest. Oh, come let us adore him, Christ the Lord. This is Christmas in America, in the United States of America, in the highest glory, glory in the highest. Christmas in America, it's a white, clabbered New England meeting house lighted in the evening, in the crisp, cold dusk of evening, when the lights in the tall side windows make yellow pointed panels on the shadows in the snow. Christmas in America, it's the laughter of countless children and the praiseful sound of still young voices lifting up the old songs, the Christmas songs that never do grow old. Oh, come let us adore him, Christ the Lord. Half-times in the sky, look down where he lay, the little archivist, a little man. Christmas in America is the crunch of hard-packed snowflakes on the path to the door of your childhood's well-remembered home. It's the snow on the boots of the many bundled postman and the summons of his whistle in the clean, dry air. It's a thousand, thousand farmhouse dining tables, heavy-laden, well-remembered, though the wanderer remembering may walk the streets of the city remembering and alone, but hearing songs both old and new. Oh, little town of Bethlehem, how still we see thee lie, above thy deep and dreamless stars go by, yet in thy dark streets shineeth the everlasting light. The hopes and fears of all the years are made in thee tonight. Christmas in America is a parlor mantle loaded down with colored Christmas cards, a red-buried wreath in a frosted seaward window, a package from home well-wrapped with love, an angel on a tree top. It's a dance at the suburban country club with the lovely girls all home from school, so young they break your heart. It's a star-bright, searchlight Santa Claus parade from Hollywood and La Brea to Hollywood and Vine. And it's a lonely prayer meeting in a lonely, prairie town with a walk back home against the bitter, prairie wind. It's all of these, but the sound of Christmas in America is the same sound always, the sound of a song of praise. Glory to God in the highest! Glory, glory, glory in the highest! Glory, glory, glory in the highest! Glory, glory, glory in the highest! In the highest! He is the King of Heaven. Lord, we're Lord, we're Lord, we're through the hell. Glory, glory in the highest, glory, glory in the highest. And on earth He is the King of Heaven. He is the King of Heaven. Glory, glory to the King. Christmas in America is a radio in the club car of a transcontinental express plowing eastbound through the drifted snows below the Donner Pass. A radio tuned to a Christmas song that comes from a studio high in a tower whose terraced walls march upward from the sidewalks of New York. It's the westbound plane above the train whose pilot listens, too. It's the homing steamer threading the narrows of the Golden Gate and hearing the song in the captain's cabin. It's all the songs in all the hearts that wish for gentleness and peace. Glory, glory in the highest, glory, glory in the highest. And on earth He is the King of Heaven. He came of the red sky, coming of all the winds, and then passed them on the line. By day a spark holds it, the gold I have in mind. With Mary we behold Him, Mother Earth and Mother Time. To come on Mother Earth, He was human, and then human, and then He passed on the line. Christmas in America. It's the sons of the house who are home again, and they brought the wife and kids. It's the little children still at home, those for whom the hard one dollars go splashing out in gifts regardless, for the children are the future. And this is the land of the future's rich, demanding dream. And Christmas in America is those who guard its hope, who stand sentinel in the Korean passes and on the marches of the West, and who are remembered, who are remembered. When our feet are still bent, and still bent, to hear, they will be not known. I'm dreaming of a white Christmas, with every Christmas I find. May your baby be merry and bright, and may all our God's gifts have been divine. Merry Christmas. Merry Christmas. Merry Christmas. Merry Christmas. Merry Christmas. Merry Christmas. Christmas in the Republic, the Great Republic, the United States of America. It's a thousand tinkling tiny bells on a thousand windy corners, as the crowds of Christmas shoppers hurry past the gleaming windows, the neon gleaming windows, the treasure-bearing windows of the stores. It's the muted Latin murmur of a crowded midnight mass, with the seats inside the church too few to hold the patient folk, so they spill out, alter-facing, out in the open street, and share their still devotions with the honk of taxi horns. Christmas in America, a myriad of things, not all of them so pretty, or so noble, or so fine, but all of them a seeking and a reaching for the best, for the thing the child has promised, for the thing the star foretold. Peace on earth, peace on earth to men of good will. Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah, for the Lord God is a ten-cent millionaire. Alleluia, alleluia, alleluia, alleluia. Alleluia, alleluia, alleluia. Alleluia, alleluia, alleluia, alleluia. Alleluia, alleluia, alleluia,arglawla. Alleluia! Hallelujah, hallelujah! Hallelujah! King of Kings and Lord of Lords, King of Kings, we come as one in the rain, King of Kings, we come as one in the rain, for the land and the sea. King of Kings, for the land and the sea, and Lord of Lords, who he shall reign forever, forever and ever. King of Kings and Lord of Lords, King of Kings and Lord of Lords, who he shall reign forever, forever and ever. Forever and ever, forever and ever. Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah. Hallelujah! This is a special Christmas program featuring the DuPont Chorus and Walter Hamdon on the DuPont Cabocat of America. And now speaking to you from the stage of the Playhouse in Wilmington, Delaware, is Mr. Crawford H. Greenwald, President of the DuPont Company. Mr. Greenwald. It is a privilege and a pleasure to bring greetings to friends of Cavalcade and particularly to the 89,000 men and women of our immediate family. The people of DuPont can properly take pride in their performance in this, our 150th year. Once more, we have supplied a record volume of our products to the American economy, and so have contributed to the growth and strength of our nation. Once more, we have met our problems and difficulties with courage and determination. And whatever new anxieties the future may bring, I am sure that our men and women will face them with pride in past performance and high confidence in future accomplishments. For 150 years, the DuPont Company has had the great privilege of doing its appointed tasks in an atmosphere of freedom and individual liberty. In that atmosphere, we have prospered as our nation has prospered. And our nation stands before the world today in its full strength and vigor, a shining demonstration of the proposition that to free men, no task is impossible, no difficulty too great to surmount. These are anxious times throughout the world. The problems before us are indeed difficult and troublesome, but they are no greater and no more troublesome than those free men have faced and overcome throughout the sweep of history. I have every confidence that in the years ahead, the spirit of freedom will prevail over the power of aggression as it has always prevailed during past centuries. With pride in our heritage, let us work toward the day when the blessings of peace, good fellowship, and understanding will enrich all the nations of the world. A Merry Christmas to you all. ["The Christmas Choir"] Tonight, you have heard the cavalcade of America's annual presentation of the DuPont Chorus, sending Christmas greetings throughout the nation. Our musical program included a death-stayed Philaeides, Dex the Hall, a way in the manger, old little town of Bethlehem, glory to God in the highest, low, how a rose, air blooming, white Christmas, and the Hallelujah Chorus. The DuPont voices are under the direction of Frank J. Clark, our guest narrator with Walter Hamdon. We hope you have enjoyed Christmas in America, and to you all, the men and women of the DuPont Company send Christmas greetings and a heartfelt wish for a happy and prosperous New Year. ["The Christmas Choir"] ["The Christmas Choir"]
