Through the frosty starlight ringing,
Faint and sweet and far away,
Comes the sound of children, singing,
Chanting, singing,
"Cease to mourn,
For Christ is born,
Peace and joy to all men bringing!"
Careless that the chill winds blow,
Growing stronger, sweeter, clearer,
Noiseless footfalls in the snow
Bring the happy voices nearer;
Hear them singing,
"Winter's drear,
But Christ is here,
Mirth and gladness with Him bringing!"
"Merry Christmas!" hear them say,
As the East is growing lighter;
"May the joy of Christmas Day
Make your whole year gladder, brighter!"
Join their singing,
"To each home
Our Christ has come,
All love's treasures with Him bringing!"
Margaret Deland.
WHERE LOVE IS THERE GOD IS ALSO
Leo Tolstoi
Martuin, the shoemaker, lived in a city of Russia. His house was a
little basement room with one window. Through this window he used to
watch the people walking past. He was so far below the street that
from his bench he could see only the feet of the passers-by but he
knew them all by their boots. Nearly every pair of boots in the
neighbourhood had been in his hands once and again. Some he would half
sole, and some he would patch, some he would stitch around, and
occasionally he would also put on new uppers. "Ah," he would say to
himself, "there goes the baker. That was a fine piece of leather."
Martuin always had plenty to do because he was a faithful workman,
used good materials, and always finished an order as early as he
promised it.
In the evening when his work was done he would light his little oil
lamp, take his book down from the shelf and begin to read. He had but
one book, a Bible, and as he read he thought of the wonderful
Christ-child. "Ah," he cried one night, "if He would only come to me
and be my guest. If He should come, I wonder how I should receive
Him." Martuin rested his head upon his hands and dozed. "Martuin," a
voice seemed suddenly to sound in his ears.
He started from his sleep. "Who is here?" He looked around but there
was no one.
Again he fell into a doze. Suddenly he plainly heard, "Martuin, ah,
Martuin! Look to-morrow on the street. I am coming."
At daybreak next morning Martuin woke, said his prayer, put his
cabbage soup and gruel on to cook and sat down by the window to work.
He worked hard but all the time he was thinking of the voice that he
had heard. "Was it a dream," he said to himself, "or is He coming?
Shall I really see Him to-day?" When anyone passed by in boots that he
did not know he would bend down close to the window so that he could
see the face as well as the boots.
By and by an old, old man came along; he carried a shovel. It was
Stephanwitch. Martuin knew him by his old felt boots. He was very poor
and helped the house porter with all the hard work. Now he began to
shovel away the snow from in front of Martuin's window. Martuin looked
up eagerly.
"Pshaw," said Martuin, "old Stephanwitch is clearing away the snow and
I imagined the Christ-child was coming to see me." He looked again.
How old and feeble Stephanwitch looked.
"He is cold and weary," thought Martuin. "I will call him in and give
him a cup of tea, the samovar must be boiling by now."
He laid down his awl, made the tea, and tapped on the window. "Come in
and warm yourself," he said.
"May Christ reward you for this! My bones ache," said Stephanwitch.
Stephanwitch shook off the snow and tried to wipe his feet so as not
to soil the floor, but he staggered from cold and weariness.
"Never mind that, I will clean it up. We are used to such things. Sit
down and drink a cup of tea," said Martuin heartily.
Martuin filled two cups and handed one to Stephanwitch who drank it
eagerly, turned it upside down, and began to express his thanks.
"Have some more?" said Martuin, refilling the cup.
"Are you expecting anyone?" asked Stephanwitch. "I see you keep
turning to look on the street."
"I am ashamed to tell you whom I expect. I am, and I am not, expecting
someone. You see, brother, I was reading about the Christ and how He
walked on earth and I thought, 'If He came to me, should I know how to
receive Him?' and I heard a voice, 'Be on the watch, I shall come
to-morrow.' It is absurd, yet would you believe it, I am expecting
Him, the Christ-child."
Stephanwitch shook his head but said nothing.
Martuin filled his guest's cup with hot tea and continued, "You see I
have an idea He would come to the simple people. He picked out His
disciples from simple working people like us. Come, brother, have
some more tea."
But Stephanwitch rose. "Thanks to you, Martuin, for treating me kindly
and warming me, soul and body."
"You are welcome, brother, come again."
Stephanwitch departed. Martuin put away the dishes and sat down by the
window to stitch on a patch. He kept looking out as he stitched.
Two soldiers passed by; one wore boots that Martuin had made; then the
master of the next house; then a baker. Then there came a woman in
woolen stockings and wooden shoes. Martuin looked up through the
window. He saw she was a stranger poorly clad in shabby summer
clothes. She had turned her back to the wind and was trying to shelter
a little child who was crying.
Martuin went to the door and called out, "Why are you standing there
in the cold? Come into my room where it is warm."
The woman was astonished when she saw the old, old man in his leather
apron and big spectacles beckoning and calling to her, but she gladly
followed him.
"There," said Martuin, "sit down near the stove and warm yourself."
Then he brought out bread, poured out cabbage soup, and took up the
pot with the gruel.
"Eat, eat," he said. "I will mind the little one. Tell me, why are you
out in this bitter cold?"
"I am a soldier's wife, but my husband has been sent far away. We have
used up our money and I went to-day for work but they told me to come
again."
Martuin sighed. "Have you no warm clothes?"
"Ah, this is the time to wear them, but yesterday I sold my last warm
shawl for food."
Martuin sighed. He went to the little cupboard and found an old coat.
"Take it," he said. "It is a poor thing, yet it may help you." He
slipped some money into her hand and with this said, "Buy yourself a
shawl and food till work shall be found."
"May Christ bless you!" she cried. "He must have sent me to you. It
had grown so cold my little child would have frozen to death, but He,
the Christ-child, led you to look through the window."
"Indeed He did," said Martuin, smiling.
The woman left. Martuin ate some sheki, washed the dishes, and sat
down again by the window to work. A shadow darkened the window.
Martuin looked up eagerly. It was only an acquaintance who lived a
little further down the street. Again the window grew dark. This time
Martuin saw that an old apple woman had stopped right in front of the
window. She carried a basket with apples and over her shoulder she had
a bag full of chips. One could see that the bag was heavy. She lowered
it to the sidewalk and as she did so, she set the apples on a little
post. A little boy with a torn cap darted up, picked an apple out of
the basket and started to run but the old woman caught him, knocked
off his cap, and seized him by the hair.
Martuin ran out in the cold. "Let him go, Babushka; forgive him for
Christ's sake."
"I will forgive him so that he won't forget it till the new broom
grows! I am going to take him to the police."
"Let him go, Babushka, let him go for Christ's sake. He will never do
it again."
The old woman let him loose. The boy tried to run, but Martuin kept
him back.
"Ask Babushka's forgiveness," he said, "and never do it again. I saw
you take the apple."
With tears in his eyes the boy began to ask forgiveness.
"There, that's all right," said Martuin; "take the apple. I will pay
for it."
"You ruin the good-for-nothings," said the old woman. "He should be
well punished. He deserves it."
"Perhaps," answered Martuin, "but God forgives us though we deserve it
not."
"Well, well," said the old woman, appeased, "after all it was but a
childish trick." She started to lift the bag upon her shoulder.
"Let me take it," said the boy. "It is on my way."
Side by side they passed along the street, the boy carrying the bag
and chattering to the old woman. Martuin turned and went back into the
little room.
After sewing a little while it grew too dark to see. He lighted his
little lamp, finished his piece of work, put it away, and took down
his Bible. Suddenly he seemed to hear someone stepping around behind
him. In the dark corner there seemed to be people standing. Then he
heard a voice, "Martuin, ah, Martuin, did you not know me?"
"Who?" cried Martuin.
"It is I," replied the voice, and Stephanwitch stepped forth from the
dark corner, smiled, and faded away like a little cloud.
"And this is I!" said the voice again, and from the dark corner
stepped the woman and the child. The woman smiled, the child laughed,
and then they, too, vanished.
"And this is I!" and the old woman and the boy stepped forward,
smiled, and vanished. Then a light filled the little room and glowed
about the figure of a Child and Martuin heard the words:
"For I was an hungered and ye gave me meat; I was thirsty and ye gave
me drink; I was a stranger and ye took me in." And Martuin knew that
the Christ-child had really come to him that Christmas-tide.
(_Adapted._)
GOD REST YE, MERRY GENTLEMEN
God rest ye, merry gentlemen,
Let nothing you dismay,
For Jesus Christ, our Saviour,
Was born upon this day,
To save us all from Satan's pow'r
When we were gone astray.
O tidings of comfort and joy!
For Jesus Christ, our Saviour,
Was born on Christmas Day.
Now to the Lord sing praises,
All you within this place,
And with true love and brotherhood
Each other now embrace;
This holy tide of Christmas
All others doth deface.
O tidings of comfort and joy!
For Jesus Christ, our Saviour,
Was born on Christmas Day.
Dinah Mulock Craik.
THE GLAD NEW YEAR
THE GLAD NEW YEAR
It's coming, boys,
It's almost here.
It's coming, girls,
The grand New Year.
A year to be glad in,
Not to be sad in;
A year to live in,
To gain and give in.
A year for trying,
And not for sighing;
A year for striving
And healthy thriving.
It's coming, boys,
It's almost here.
It's coming, girls,
The grand New Year.
Mary Mapes Dodge.
THE BAD LITTLE GOBLIN'S NEW YEAR
Mary Stewart
Come, children dear, let's sit on the floor around the fire, so, and
watch those golden flames dancing and leaping. You see that very gay
one just springing up the chimney? I know a story about him, a New
Year's story. Let's snuggle up closer and look into the fire. You see
that piece of coal black wood, there at the end? There was a horrid
little goblin once who was as black as that bit of wood. His clothes
were all black, his round cap looked like a bit of coal, his pointed
shoes were jet black, and his face was dark with dirt and an ugly
scowling expression. Altogether he was a horrid looking goblin, and he
was just as hateful as he looked. There wasn't a single person who
liked him. The birds hated him because he would wait after dark when
all the baby birds were cuddled down in the nest, fast asleep. Then
he would pop up from under the nest where he had been hiding and cry,
"Morning time, wake up!" and all the babies would cry, "Chirp, chirp,
Daddy bring us our breakfast!" They opened their bills so wide that it
took a long time to shut them and put the excited babies to sleep
again. Once Blackie, that was the goblin's name, dropped a bit of twig
down into a baby's open bill and the poor bird coughed so hard that he
kept the birds in the nests around awake all night. Blackie chuckled
with glee and went scurrying off on another prank.
While the mother bunnies were asleep he painted the tiny white flags
they wear under their tails with brown mud from the marsh. When
morning-time really did come and the mother bunnies woke up and called
to their children to follow them, the little bunnies couldn't see any
white flags on their mothers' tails to follow, and all got lost in the
long grass. It took the whole day to gather them together, and still
longer to get those flags clean again.
Blackie jumped for joy. The mother bunnies would have liked to reach
him with their sharp claws, but he was too quick for them.
Then Blackie found the holes where the squirrels had hidden their nuts
for the winter. It had taken months to gather them, but Blackie waited
until they were out hunting again, and he carried all the nuts away
and hid them in the roots of an old tree where they would never think
of looking!
That wasn't all! Blackie did one last thing so terrible that I don't
like to tell you about it. He waited until a robin's nest was full of
lovely blue eggs and the father bird was off in search of worms. Then
he made such a rustling in the next tree that the mother bird flew off
to see what it was, and while she was gone--Blackie danced upon the
eggs until they were all broken!
That filled the timid wood creatures with fury. The birds, the
rabbits, and the squirrels rushed upon the goblin and drove him before
them. The birds pecked him with their beaks, and the squirrels and
rabbits hopped after him with their claws outstretched. Away ran
Blackie, really frightened at last, faster and faster until he reached
the darkest part of the whole forest. There he jumped into a hole in a
tree, curling himself up so tightly that his round cap touched his
pointed shoes, and while he trembled with fear he heard the birds and
bunnies and squirrels go tearing past, thinking that the wicked little
goblin was still running ahead of them.
When they had all gone, Blackie peeked out of his hole. Oh, how
terribly quiet it was! Not a bird chirped, not a squirrel or a rabbit
or a woodchuck lived there. It was so quiet and so dark and so lonely
that Blackie began to feel quite forlorn. "I would almost be polite to
a tree toad!" he thought, but not even a croak or a buzz or a rustle
broke the stillness. The bad little goblin put his head down upon his
black knees and went to sleep; there was nothing else to do!
The first sound which woke him up was, "Chop-chop!" He rubbed his eyes
and peeked out. He saw woodcutters cutting down trees with their sharp
axes. Then he saw them coming toward the tree where he was hiding.
Shaking with terror, Blackie curled himself up into a tight ball.
Chop-chop-crash! went the tree, and Blackie's head bumped hard against
the top of his hole as, still inside it, he felt the tree fall to the
ground. That was rather fun, and much excited he peeked out of a crack
and watched the men fastening chains around the trees and loading them
on wheels. His own tree went, too, and the next thing Blackie heard
was saw-saw, as the tree was sawed into logs at a lumber yard. Again
he rolled up tight, hoping the knives wouldn't cut him in two, and
they didn't! He was still safe in his hole when his log was thrown
with others, right down into a dark cellar. It was even drearier there
than in the forest and Blackie began to long for some playfellows. "I
wouldn't tease them. I'd just play with them nicely," he sighed, and
two tears ran down his little black face, washing it almost clean.
Then Blackie heard a strange new sound. It was gayer than a squirrel's
chatter, sweeter than a bird's song,--it was a child's laughter! Where
did it come from? Blackie stopped crying and listened. It came again
and the laughter of other children mingled with it. Blackie peeked
out. There was no one in the cellar. He crept out and tiptoed up the
stairs, in search of those laughing voices. Hiding in the shadows so
that no one could see him, he passed through the kitchen and on into a
room full of sunshine and children. He ran in and hid behind a
curtain, peeking out curiously. In the center of the room stood a
little golden-haired girl, the one whose laughter he had first heard.
But as Blackie watched her with delight he saw her pucker up her face
as though she were going to cry. "My dolly, my dear dolly, I tan't
find her!" she wailed. In a flash all the other boys and girls were
searching under chairs and tables for the runaway dolly. They couldn't
find her, but Blackie saw a pair of doll's feet poking out from under
the sofa. He hopped swiftly across the floor, pulled the doll out by
one leg and placed her on a chair beside the little girl.
"Oh, see, my doll's tum back!" she cried, hugging her with joy. "She
went for a walk and tame back again!" and taking the doll's two hands
in hers she danced with her around the room. The other children
danced, too, and their laughter rang out again. "She went for a walk
and came back all herself!" they cried.
Blackie thought he had never seen or heard anything so merry, it made
him want to dance, also. Poor little black goblin whom the maid, if
she had seen him, would have swept out of the room, mistaking him for
a bit of coal!
But Blackie took care that no one did see him. Except, perhaps, the
children, I don't know whether anyone ever saw him or not. He spent
most of the time with them, and somehow they seemed to know that he
was there and that he was their friend. Every evening when they had
their supper they put a bowl of milk in front of the fire for him, and
when they came in to breakfast the bowl was always empty. I don't know
how Blackie drank it without being seen, for he still slept in his log
in the cellar and was asleep as soon as the children's heads touched
their pillows. The children's mother was puzzled over that empty bowl,
but she might have guessed there was a friendly goblin in the house
by the way lost things were always turning up.
"I can't find my thimble!" the mother would cry. "Come, children, and
look for it!" On the floor, under the rug, in the flower pots, and on
the tables hunted the children. But hiding behind the curtain Blackie
had seen a bit of something gold shining through the tassels of the
sofa. Quick as a flash, he pulled it out and placed it on the arm of
the mother's chair. "Why, here it is!" she exclaimed. "How did it get
there?" The children laughed and winked at each other, as though they
understood, but how could they explain about the goblin to mother?
Their father was always looking for his spectacles. Mother, the
children, and all the maids would be called in to help search. Before
Blackie came they often searched for hours, but he always found them
in a twinkling, in a book, perhaps, or under the fender, and would
place them right in front of father. "Gracious, look here, there must
be some magic around!" he would cry, and the children would jump up
and down with glee! They knew all about the magic. They guessed that
a little black goblin was also jumping with delight behind the
curtain!
One morning,--it was New Year's Day,--Blackie slept longer than usual.
He was curled up inside his log, so sound asleep that even the
joggling of his home being carried upstairs didn't waken him. Then he
was turned upside down, and, opening his eyes, he peeked out of the
crack and found that the log was about to be thrown onto the blazing
fire! Crash! it went. How very warm it was, and then Blackie heard the
children laughing. He poked his head out and saw them all sitting in
front of the fire, watching the blaze. All around Blackie red and
yellow flames were dancing, so gay, so golden, so happy that Blackie
forgot to be frightened. "I want to be gay, too!" he cried. "I want to
laugh with the children and dance with the flames." His log caught
fire, blazed up and out sprang Blackie,--a little black goblin no
longer!
Instead, he was the shiniest, most dancing golden flame that you ever
saw! For a few moments he just danced up and down with delight, then,
waving and bowing to the children, he cried, "Happy New Year! Happy
New Year!" and sprang up the chimney. The children's glad voices
echoed after him.
When he reached the top he saw a glorious sight. The sun shining on
the snow and ice turned the world into a sparkling Fairy-land, and the
sky was as blue as forget-me-nots, or Polly's eyes, or the very bluest
thing you have ever seen. Blackie danced with the sunbeams over the
glittering ice until he almost ran into a flock of little birds
huddled down in the snow, too cold to fly. Their feathers were ruffled
and they looked very miserable. "Come play with me!" he cried, dancing
around them. He was so gay and so beautiful that they forgot the cold,
and flew in circles around him. "Come and join us!" he cried to a
group of rabbits who were hunched up upon the snow, half-frozen. They
hopped along slowly toward him and then--they, too, forgot the cold
while they played games with the golden goblin and the birds, until
they were all as merry as the sunbeams. "Happy New Year! Happy New
Year!" they called to each other, and to the twinkling flame goblin.
Then Blackie saw some squirrels curled up on the branches of a tree so
miserable they couldn't even make-believe scamper. "What is the
matter; do you want some nuts?" he cried. "Follow me!" And away he
darted to the roots of the tree where, as a naughty little goblin, he
had hidden their winter store. The squirrels followed slowly, but when
they saw their treasure their eyes sparkled, their teeth chattered
with delight, and they scampered back and forth from the tree root to
their own holes, their paws full of nuts. They were as gay as Blackie
himself. "Happy New Year! Happy New Year!" they cried to their
gleaming friend, whom they never dreamed was the bad little goblin
they had chased away the autumn before!
So all day and for many days the goblin danced and sang and helped
people and birds and the wood creatures. He twinkled as merrily in the
sunshine out of doors as he did when he danced in the fire, warming
the children and singing them songs.
"It's like Happy New Year every day when the goblin is here!" cried
the children, dancing as gayly on the hearth rug as the sprite was
dancing within the fire. "There he is now, do you see him? He is
dancing and crackling and crying to all of us, 'Happy New Year, Happy
New Year!'"
Let others looke for Pearle and Gold,
Tissues, or Tabbies manifold;
One only lock of that sweet Hay
Whereon the blessed Babie lay,
Or one poore Swadling-clout, shall be
The richest New-Yeere's Gift to me.
Robert Herrick.
THE QUEEN OF THE YEAR
When suns are low and nights are long
And winds bring wild alarms,
Through the darkness comes the Queen of the Year
In all her peerless charms,--
December, fair and holly-crowned,
With the Christ-child in her arms.
The maiden months are a stately train,
Veiled in the spotless snow,
Or decked with the bloom of Paradise
What time the roses blow,
Or wreathed with the vine and the yellow wheat
When the noons of harvest glow.
But, oh, the joy of the rolling year,
The queen with peerless charms,
Is she who comes through the waning light
To keep the world from harms,--
December, fair and holly-crowned,
With the Christ-child in her arms.
Edna Dean Proctor.
THE NEW YEAR'S BELL
Andrea Hofer Proudfoot
A-ring-a-ring, ring! A-ring-a-ring, ring!
"Brother Carl, wake up! wake up! Don't you hear the great bell? Father
is ringing the New Year in, don't you hear it, little Carl? Wake up!"
Tangled-haired little Carl sat up in bed, rubbed his eyes, and after a
few winks opened them wide.
"Is it the wind, brother Hans, that sings so?"
"No, no! It is the great bell; don't you hear it ring? It is ringing
for the New Year."
"Is father drawing the rope?" asked the little one.
"Of course he is, little Carl; he is waking up the whole world that
every one may wish a 'Happy New Year.' Come, let us go to the window."
And the two little fellows crept out of their warm nest onto the cold
floor, and over to the window in the gable.
"Oh, see, there is father's lantern in the steeple window!" cried
Carl.
It threw its light into the frosty night; the clear stars cut sharp
holes in the sky, and the air was so cold it made everything glisten.
A-ring-a-ring, ring! clanged the great bell, and little Hans and Carl
knew their father's arms were making it ring. The strokes were so
strong that each one made little half-asleep Carl wink; and the stars
seemed to wink back to him each time. He crept closer to Hans, and the
two stood still with their arms about each other; the room was quite
cold, but they did not mind it, for with each stroke the great bell
seemed to ring more beautifully. It seemed so near them, as if ringing
right in their ears, and the two little boys stood and listened with
beating hearts.