Once upon a time the forest was in a great commotion. Early in the
evening the wise old cedars had shaken their heads ominously and
predicted strange things. They had lived in the forest many, many
years; but never had they seen such marvellous sights as were to be
seen now in the sky, and upon the hills, and in the distant village.
"Pray tell us what you see," pleaded a little vine; "we who are not as
tall as you can behold none of these wonderful things. Describe them
to us, that we may enjoy them with you."
"I am filled with such amazement," said one of the cedars, "that I can
hardly speak. The whole sky seems to be aflame, and the stars appear
to be dancing among the clouds; angels walk down from heaven to the
earth, and enter the village or talk with the shepherds upon the
hills."
The vine listened in mute astonishment. Such things never before had
happened. The vine trembled with excitement. Its nearest neighbor was
a tiny tree, so small it scarcely ever was noticed; yet it was a very
beautiful little tree, and the vines and ferns and mosses and other
humble residents of the forest loved it dearly.
"How I should like to see the angels!" sighed the little tree, "and
how I should like to see the stars dancing among the clouds! It must
be very beautiful."
As the vine and the little tree talked of these things, the cedars
watched with increasing interest the wonderful scenes over and beyond
the confines of the forest. Presently they thought they heard music,
and they were not mistaken, for soon the whole air was full of the
sweetest harmonies ever heard upon earth.
"What beautiful music!" cried the little tree. "I wonder whence it
comes."
"The angels are singing," said a cedar; "for none but angels could
make such sweet music."
"But the stars are singing, too," said another cedar; "yes, and the
shepherds on the hills join in the song, and what a strangely glorious
song it is!"
The trees listened to the singing, but they did not understand its
meaning: it seemed to be an anthem, and it was of a Child that had
been born; but further than this they did not understand. The strange
and glorious song continued all the night; and all that night the
angels walked to and fro, and the shepherd-folk talked with the
angels, and the stars danced and carolled in high heaven. And it was
nearly morning when the cedars cried out, "They are coming to the
forest! the angels are coming to the forest!" And, surely enough, this
was true. The vine and the little tree were very terrified, and they
begged their older and stronger neighbors to protect them from harm.
But the cedars were too busy with their own fears to pay any heed to
the faint pleadings of the humble vine and the little tree. The
angels came into the forest, singing the same glorious anthem about
the Child, and the stars sang in chorus with them, until every part of
the woods rang with echoes of that wondrous song. There was nothing in
the appearance of this angel host to inspire fear; they were clad all
in white, and there were crowns upon their fair heads, and golden
harps in their hands; love, hope, charity, compassion, and joy beamed
from their beautiful faces, and their presence seemed to fill the
forest with a divine peace. The angels came through the forest to
where the little tree stood, and gathering around it, they touched it
with their hands, and kissed its little branches, and sang even more
sweetly than before. And their song was about the Child, the Child,
the Child that had been born. Then the stars came down from the skies
and danced and hung upon the branches of the tree, and they, too, sang
that song,--the song of the Child. And all the other trees and the
vines and the ferns and the mosses beheld in wonder; nor could they
understand why all these things were being done, and why this
exceeding honor should be shown the little tree.
When the morning came the angels left the forest,--all but one angel,
who remained behind and lingered near the little tree. Then a cedar
asked: "Why do you tarry with us, holy angel?" And the angel answered:
"I stay to guard this little tree, for it is sacred, and no harm shall
come to it."
The little tree felt quite relieved by this assurance, and it held up
its head more confidently than ever before. And how it thrived and
grew, and waxed in strength and beauty! The cedars said they never had
seen the like. The sun seemed to lavish its choicest rays upon the
little tree, heaven dropped its sweetest dew upon it, and the winds
never came to the forest that they did not forget their rude manners
and linger to kiss the little tree and sing it their prettiest songs.
No danger ever menaced it, no harm threatened; for the angel never
slept,--through the day and through the night the angel watched the
little tree and protected it from all evil. Oftentimes the trees
talked with the angel; but of course they understood little of what he
said, for he spoke always of the Child who was to become the Master;
and always when thus he talked, he caressed the little tree, and
stroked its branches and leaves, and moistened them with his tears. It
all was so very strange that none in the forest could understand.
So the years passed, the angel watching his blooming charge. Sometimes
the beasts strayed toward the little tree and threatened to devour its
tender foliage; sometimes the woodman came with his axe, intent upon
hewing down the straight and comely thing; sometimes the hot,
consuming breath of drought swept from the south, and sought to blight
the forest and all its verdure: the angel kept them from the little
tree. Serene and beautiful it grew, until now it was no longer a
little tree, but the pride and glory of the forest.
One day the tree heard some one coming through the forest. Hitherto
the angel had hastened to its side when men approached; but now the
angel strode away and stood under the cedars yonder.
"Dear angel," cried the tree, "can you not hear the footsteps of some
one approaching? Why do you leave me?"
"Have no fear," said the angel; "for He who comes is the Master."
The Master came to the tree and beheld it. He placed His hands upon
its smooth trunk and branches, and the tree was thrilled with a
strange and glorious delight. Then He stooped and kissed the tree, and
then He turned and went away.
Many times after that the Master came to the forest, and when He came
it always was to where the tree stood. Many times He rested beneath
the tree and enjoyed the shade of its foliage, and listened to the
music of the wind as it swept through the rustling leaves. Many times
He slept there, and the tree watched over Him, and the forest was
still, and all its voices were hushed. And the angel hovered near like
a faithful sentinel.
Ever and anon men came with the Master to the forest, and sat with Him
in the shade of the tree, and talked with Him of matters which the
tree never could understand; only it heard that the talk was of love
and charity and gentleness, and it saw that the Master was beloved and
venerated by the others. It heard them tell of the Master's goodness
and humility,--how He had healed the sick and raised the dead and
bestowed inestimable blessings wherever He walked. And the tree loved
the Master for His beauty and His goodness; and when He came to the
forest it was full of joy, but when He came not it was sad. And the
other trees of the forest joined in its happiness and its sorrow, for
they, too, loved the Master. And the angel always hovered near.
The Master came one night alone into the forest, and His face was pale
with anguish and wet with tears, and He fell upon His knees and
prayed. The tree heard Him, and all the forest was still, as if it
were standing in the presence of death. And when the morning came,
lo! the angel had gone.
[Illustration: "They are killing me!" cried the tree.]
Then there was a great confusion in the forest. There was a sound of
rude voices, and a clashing of swords and staves. Strange men
appeared, uttering loud oaths and cruel threats, and the tree was
filled with terror. It called aloud for the angel, but the angel came
not.
"Alas," cried the vine, "they have come to destroy the tree, the pride
and glory of the forest!"
The forest was sorely agitated, but it was in vain. The strange men
plied their axes with cruel vigor, and the tree was hewn to the
ground. Its beautiful branches were cut away and cast aside, and its
soft, thick foliage was strewn to the tenderer mercies of the winds.
"They are killing me!" cried the tree; "why is not the angel here to
protect me?"
But no one heard the piteous cry,--none but the other trees of the
forest; and they wept, and the little vine wept too.
Then the cruel men dragged the despoiled and hewn tree from the
forest, and the forest saw that beauteous thing no more.
But the night wind that swept down from the City of the Great King
that night to ruffle the bosom of distant Galilee, tarried in the
forest awhile to say that it had seen that day a cross upraised on
Calvary,--the tree on which was stretched the body of the dying
Master.