A HAPPY CHRISTMAS.
The pastor had fallen into the pleasant habit of having his wife with
him when he wrote his sermons. Alone in the morning he made his
researches and his copious notes for his compilation. In the evening he
talked over with his wife the subject in hand, before the work of
writing really began. She found him one night, shortly before Christmas,
sitting dolorously before his table covered with papers, while an
unusual cloud overshadowed his face.
"I cannot even think how to begin, wife," he said; "my thoughts will run
in quite another direction. I feel all the weight of the new year upon
me. Those old debts of mine, that I can never hope to clear off, hang
upon me like a hopeless weight. A few years less at Upsala, and a good
deal less debt, would have been a far better preparation for such a
parish as this."
The pastor's wife was not at all cast down by this sorrowful lament. It
had long been a familiar strain to her. She answered cheerily,--
"You had nothing to do with the arrangements as to what you were to
learn at Upsala, and how long you must be there. You worked hard, and
denied yourself almost the necessaries of life, as you well know. Now
you are here and at your higher mission, which _must_ be faithfully
performed. So you will have to throw all these cares overboard. Just
when we are to remember that 'God so loved the world,' we must not
forget that He loves us still, every one of us. We here in this little
parsonage are under His care, and He is not going to let us have burdens
heavier than we can bear. We live simply enough; there is no faring
'sumptuously every day' here, as all the parish knows. I have thought
out a little help. We will not give each other anything for Christmas.
If gifts are but an expression of love, we do not need that kind of
expression between us. For Elsa I have made a big rag doll, dressed in a
fine peasant dress, from the scraps in my piece-bag. We will have a
little Christmas-tree on a table for a variety, and I have put tinsel
round nuts to hang upon it with the pretty red apples from the garden;
and as to candles, we have enough left from last year. We will all learn
that beautiful carol we had sent us by mail yesterday. Our good Beda,
she must not be disappointed. I have my uncle's last present to me in
money, which I shall share with her, and give her the dress from my aunt
that I have not yet made up for myself. The rest of aunty's present will
do to make Christmas cheery for the poorhouse people and the
hard-pinched folks in the parish, who look for a little from us at this
time. So now all those troublesome matters are blown away. As for the
interest on the old debts, that is not to be paid until January; and we
will leave that to the loving Lord, who has given us so many blessings,
and see now after the sermon with cheerful, thankful hearts. Come, dear;
now I am ready to hear about it."
And they did begin on the sermon, and it was the best the pastor had
ever written. Something of the sweet cheerfulness and loving gratitude
of the wife had made its way among the sound theological quotations and
the judicious condensations. There was new life in the whole, which now
came really from the pastor's uplifted soul, and would find its way to
the stirred hearts of the hearers.
Christmas morning came, and little Elsa was early at the poorhouse. She
had a present for Johanson. It was but a bit of work on perforated
paper, done by her own hands--a lamb outlined in gay silk; but it was a
_lamb_, and she felt that meant something between her and Johanson, and
it did.
He was moved when he took it, and thanked her with good wishes for
Christmas from the depths of his heart.
"I am so happy, Johanson," she said, "for papa and mamma are so glad. I
heard them say, 'Now the past is all wiped away, and we can begin the
new year as free from care as the birds.' I have often heard mamma say
that the past is all, all wiped away when we are sorry for what we have
done and want to do better, and I am always so glad about that. But
this, I am sure, meant something different; for they said something
about a letter, and then they looked together at a paper as if they
could kiss it, and said, 'We must thank God for it, and ask Him to bless
an unknown friend with His best blessings.' And they just talked to God
where they sat, as they do sometimes. Papa has been sorrowful lately,
but he really looked to-day like mamma when she is the happiest."
The child had found Johanson bowed, sitting with his head in his hands,
while his thoughts were far back in his sinful, sorrowful past. He had
felt as if he had hardly a right to welcome the day when the Saviour was
born. Now his face beamed with joy; but he only said, "I am glad you are
all so happy. I am sure you will be pleased again when you see something
in church to-day."
Many weeks before Christmas, Johanson had asked permission to go into
the church, and to have a tall ladder carried in with him. The pastor
was astonished at the request. The permission had been granted. No
results of the matter had, however, appeared. The same permission had
been given the day before. There had been some hammering then, he
understood, but had no misgivings in the matter, as he had begun to
trust Johanson as an upright, honest man.
There were surprise and delight on all faces when they entered the
church for the early service on Christmas morning. Of course there was a
perfect blaze of light within, but that they had expected. The golden
cross was gone; the red curtain had disappeared; the old picture, now
but a ragged canvas, had been removed, and in its place was a beautiful
painting. It represented the Lord Jesus, sitting with a glory round His
benign countenance, welcoming a penitent, weary pilgrim from afar, who
knelt to receive His blessing. Below was the legend, "Him that cometh to
Me I will in no wise cast out."
The carol that was sung was the same that the pastor's wife had chosen
to be used at the lighting of the tree in her own home the evening
before. The rural choir had practised it well, and it sounded out over
the old church like angelic music.
At the first notes Johanson started and covered his face with his hands.
A moment later, though he held no notes to follow, his beautiful voice
rang out loud and clear and in full harmony with the other singers.
When the service was over, there was a crowd lingering in the aisles,
praising and admiring the beautiful picture and the new carol; but
Johanson was soon alone in the poorhouse, with "Hosanna! hosanna!" in
his heart.