“Maiden, no! Thy Christmas saint
Beareth gifts of mortal taint:
At the touch of sure decay
They shall vanish quite away.
Those we bear are not of earth:
Theirs has been a higher birth.”
The visitors ceased; and one of their number, coming forward, commenced
anew:—
“I am Faith. To thee I bear
Childlike trust and confidence
In the ever-watchful care
Of our Father’s providence.
Maiden, one of sisters three,
This the gift I bear to thee.”