We have the Lord Christ still,
And that still above our weakness
He works His mighty will,
That all our little playthings
Of earthen hopes and joys
Shall be, by His commandment,
Changed into heavenly toys.
Our souls are like the sparrows
Imprisoned in the clay,
Bless Him who came to give them wings
Upon a Christmas Day!
THE CHILDREN OF WIND AND THE
CLAN OF PEACE
FIONA MACLEOD
I will tell this Legend as simply but also with what beauty I can, because
the words of the old Highland woman, who told it to me,...though simple
were beautiful with ancient idiom.
We must go back near twenty hundred years.... It was in the last month of
the last year of the seven years' silence and peace: the seventh year in
the mortal life of Jesus the Christ. It was on the twenty-fifth day of
that month, the day of His holy birth.
It was a still day. The little white flowers that were called Breaths of
Hope and that we now call Stars of Bethlehem were so hushed in quiet that
the shadows of moths lay on them like the dark motionless violet in the
hearts of pansies. In the long swards of tender grass the multitude of the
daisies were white as milk faintly stained with flusht dews fallen from
roses. On the meadows of white poppies were long shadows blue as the blue
lagoons of the sky among drifting snow-white moors of cloud. Three white
aspens on the pastures were in a still sleep: their tremulous leaves made
no rustle, though there was a soundless wavering fall of little dusky
shadows, as in the dark water of a pool where birches lean in the yellow
hour of the frostfire. Upon the pastures were ewes and lambs sleeping, and
yearling kids opened and closed their onyx eyes among the garths of white
clover.
It was the Sabbath, and Jesus walked alone. When He came to a little rise
in the grass He turned and looked back at the house where His parents
dwelled. Joseph sat on a bench, with bent shoulders, and was dreaming with
fixt gaze into the west, as seamen stare across the interminable wave at
the pale green horizons that are like the grassy shores of home. Mary was
standing, dressed in long white raiment, white as a lily, with her right
hand shading her eyes as she looked to the east, dreaming her dream.
The young Christ sighed, but with the love of all love in His heart. "So
shall it be till the day of days," He said aloud; "even so shall the
hearts of men dwell among shadows and glories, in the West of passing
things: even so shall that which is immortal turn to the East and watch
for the coming of Joy through the Gates of Life."
At the sound of His voice He heard a sudden noise as of many birds, and
turned and looked beyond the low upland where He stood. A pool of pure
water lay in the hollow, fed by a ceaseless wellspring, and round it and
over it circled birds whose breasts were grey as pearl and whose necks
shone purple and grass-green and rose. The noise was of their wings, for
though the birds were beautiful they were voiceless and dumb as flowers.
At the edge of the pool stood two figures, whom He knew to be of the
angelic world because of their beauty, but who had on them the illusion of
mortality so that the child did not know them. But He saw that one was
beautiful as Night, and one beautiful as Morning.
He drew near.
"I have lived seven years," He said, "and I wish to send peace to the far
ends of the world."
"Tell your secret to the birds," said one.
"Tell your secret to the birds," said the
other.
So Jesus called to the birds.
"Come," He cried; and they came.
Seven came flying from the left, from the side of the angel beautiful as
Night. Seven came flying from the right, from the side of the angel
beautiful as Morning.
To the first He said: "Look into my heart."
But they wheeled about Him, and with newfound voices mocked, crying, "How
could we see into your heart that is hidden" ... and mocked and derided,
crying, "What is Peace! ... Leave us alone! Leave us alone!"
So Christ said to them:
"I know you for the birds of Ahriman, who is not beautiful but is Evil.
Henceforth ye shall be black as night, and be children of the winds."
To the seven other birds which circled about Him, voiceless, and brushing
their wings against His arms, He cried:
"Look into my heart."
And they swerved and hung before Him in a maze of wings, and looked into
His pure heart: and, as they looked, a soft murmurous sound came from
them, drowsy-sweet, full of peace: and as they hung there like a breath in
frost they became white as snow.
"Ye are the Doves of the Spirit," said Christ, "and to you I will commit
that which ye have seen. Henceforth shall your plumage be white and your
voices be the voices of peace."
The young Christ turned, for He heard Mary calling to the sheep and goats,
and knew that dayset was come and that in the valleys the gloaming was
already rising like smoke from the urns of the twilight. When He looked
back He saw by the pool neither the Son of Joy nor the Son of Sorrow, but
seven white doves were in the cedar beyond the pool, cooing in low ecstasy
of peace and awaiting through sleep and dreams the rose-red pathways of
the dawn. Down the long grey reaches of the ebbing day He saw seven birds
rising and falling on the wind, black as black water in caves, black as
the darkness of night in old pathless woods.
And that is how the first doves became white, and how the first crows
became black and were called by a name that means the clan of darkness,
the children of the wind.
THE CHILD JESUS IN THE GARDEN
AUTHOR UNKNOWN
Cold was the day, when in a garden bare,
Walked the Child Jesus, wrapt in holy thought;
His brow seemed clouded with a weight of care;
Calmness and rest from worldly things he sought.
Soon was his presence missed within his home;
His mother gently marked his every way;
Forth then she came to seek where he did roam.
Full of sweet words his trouble to allay.
Through chilling snow she toiled to reach his side,
Forcing her way mid branches brown and sere,
Hastening that she his sorrows might divide,
Share all his woe, or calm his gloomy fear.
Sweet was her face, as o'er his head she bent,
Longing to melt his look of saddest grief.
With lifted eyes, his ear to her he lent;
Her kindly solace brought his soul relief.
Then did he smile--a smile of love so deep,
Winter himself grew warm beneath its glow;
From drooping branches scented blossoms peep;
Up springs the grass; the sealèd fountains flow.
Summer and spring did with each other vie,
Offering to Him the fragrance of their store;
Chanting sweet notes, the birds around him fly,
Wondering why earth had checkered so her floor.
THE MYSTIC THORN
ADAPTED FROM TRADITIONAL SOURCES
"Three hawthornes also that groweth in Werall
Do burge and bere grene leaves at Christmas
As fresshe as other in May."
It was Christmas day in the year 63. The autumn colors of red and gold had
long since faded from the hills, and the trees which covered the island
valley of Glastonbury, the Avalon or Apple-tree isle of the early Britons,
were bare and leafless. The spreading, glass-like waters encircling it
round about gleamed faintly in the pale afternoon light of the winter's
day. The light fell also on the silver stems of the willows and on the
tall flags and bending reeds and osiers which bordered the marsh island.
Westward the long ranges of hills running seaward were purple in the
distance and their tops were partly hidden by the misty white clouds which
rested lightly upon them. To the south rose sharply and abruptly a high,
pointed hill, the tor of Glastonbury.
It was nearing the sunset hour when a little band of men in pilgrim garb,
approaching from the west and climbing the long, hilly ridge, came within
sight of this "isle of rest." Twelve pilgrims there were in all, in dress
and appearance very unlike the fair-haired Britons who at that time dwelt
in the land. One, he who led the way, was an old man. His hair was white
and his long, white beard fell upon his breast, but he was tall and erect
and bore no other signs of age. In his hand he carried a stout hawthorn
staff.
The men were climbing slowly up the hill, for they were all weary with
long travelling. And here at the summit of the ridge they stopped to look
out over the wooded hills, the wide-spreading waters and the grassy island
with its leafless thickets of oak and alder. Sitting down to rest, they
spoke one to another of their long journeying from the far-distant land of
Palestine and of their hope that here their pilgrimage might have end.
Those who were with him called their leader Joseph of Arimathea. He it was
who had been known among the Jews many years before as a counsellor, "a
good man, and a just," and who, when the Saviour was crucified on Calvary,
had given his sepulchre to receive the body of the Lord.
From this tomb upon the third day came the risen Saviour; but the people,
thinking that Joseph had stolen away the body, seized and imprisoned him
in a chamber where there was no window. They fastened the door and put a
seal upon the lock and placed men before the door to guard it. Then the
priests and the Levites contrived to what death they should put him; but
when they sent for Joseph to be brought forth he could not be found,
though the seal was still upon the lock and the guard before the door.
The disciples of Joseph as they gathered about their fire of an evening
often told how, at night, as he prayed, the prison chamber had been filled
with a light brighter than that of the sun, and Jesus himself had appeared
to him and had led him forth unharmed to his own house in Arimathea.
And sometimes they told how, again imprisoned, he had been fed from the
Holy Cup from which the Saviour had drunk at the "last sad supper with his
own" and in which Joseph had caught the blood of his Master when he was on
the cross, and how he had been blest with such heavenly visions that the
years passed and seemed to him as naught.
Now after a certain time he had been released from prison; but there were
people who still doubted him and so with his friends, Lazarus and Mary
Magdalene and Philip and others, he had been driven away from Jerusalem.
The small vessel, without oars, rudder or sail, in which they had been
cast adrift on the Mediterranean, had come at last in safety to the coast
of Gaul. And for many years since then had Joseph wandered through the
land carrying ever with him two precious relics, the Holy Grail and "that
same spear wherewith the Roman pierced the side of Christ." Now at last
with a chosen band of disciples he had reached the little-known island of
the Britons.
Landing from their little boat in the early morn on this unknown coast,
they had knelt upon the shore while Joseph "gave blessing to the God of
heaven in a lowly chanted prayer." Then, "over the brow of the seaward
hill" they had passed, led by an invisible hand and singing as they went.
All day through dark forests and over reedy swamps they had made their way
and now at nightfall, tired and wayworn, they rested on the ridgy hill
which has ever since been known by the name of Wearyall.
During the long day's march they had seen but few of the people of the
land and these had held aloof.
Now, suddenly, the silence was broken by loud cries and shouts, and groups
of the native Britons, wild and uncouth in appearance, their half-naked
bodies stained blue with woad, were seen coming from different directions
up the hill. They were armed with spears, hatchets of bronze, and other
rude weapons of olden warfare and, as they came rapidly nearer, their
threatening aspect and menacing cries startled the pilgrim band. Rising
hastily, as though they would flee, the men looked in terror, one toward
another. Joseph alone showed no trace of fear and, obedient to a sign from
him, they all knelt in prayer upon the hillside.
Then, thrusting his thorny staff into the ground beside him and raising
both hands toward heaven, Joseph claimed possession of this new land in
the name of his Master, Christ.
"'This staff hath borne me long and well,'
Then spake that saint divine,
'Over mountain and over plain,
On quest of the Promise-sign;
For aye let it stand in this western land,
And God do no more to me
If there ring not out from this realm about,
_Tibi gloria, Domine._'"
His voice ceased and the men rose from their knees, looking expectantly
for the heavenly sign, but ready, if need be, to meet with courage the
threatened attack.
But stillness had again settled over the hill. Only a few rods distant the
Britons had stopped and grouped closely together were gazing in awestruck
silence upon the dry and withered staff, which had so often aided Joseph
in his wanderings from the Holy Land. Following their gaze, Joseph and his
companions turned toward it and even as they did so, behold! A miracle!
The staff took root and grew and, as they watched, they saw it put forth
branches and green leaves, fair buds and milk-white blossoms which filled
the air with their sweet odor.
For a moment, awed and amazed, all stood silent. Wondrously had Joseph's
prayer been answered! This was indeed the heavenly token which had been
foretold! Then with tears of joy all cried out as with one voice, "Our God
is with us! Jesus is with us!"
Marvelling much at the strange things they had just seen and heard, the
Britons dropped their weapons and fled in haste from the hill.
Then did Joseph and his disciples go down across the marsh into the valley
and there they rested undisturbed.
Word of the miracle which had thus been wrought on Wearyall Hill was
brought soon to Arviragus, the heathen king of the time, and he welcomed
gladly the holy men and gave them the beautiful vale of Avalon whereon to
live. There they built "a little lonely church," with roof of rushes and
walls of woven twigs and "wattles from the marsh," the first Christian
church which had ever been built in Britain.
There they dwelt for many years, serving God, fasting and praying, and
there Joseph taught the half-barbarous Britons, who gathered to listen to
him, the faith of Christ.
* * * * *
Time passed and the little, low, wattled church became a great and
beautiful abbey. Many pilgrims there were who came to worship at the
shrine of St. Joseph; to drink from the holy well which sprang from the
foot of Chalice Hill where the Holy Cup lay buried; and to watch the
budding of the mystic thorn, which, year after year, when the snows of
Christmas covered the hills, put forth its holy blossoms, "a symbol of
God's promise, care and love."
Now long, long afterward there came a time when there was war in the land
and one day a rough soldier who recked not of its heavenly origin cut down
the sacred tree. Only a flat stone now marks the place where it once stood
and where Joseph's staff burst into bloom. But there were other trees
which had been grown from slips of the miraculous thorn and these,
"mindful of our Lord" still keep the sacred birthday and blossom each year
on Christmas Day.
THE BLOOMING OF THE WHITE THORN
EDITH MATILDA THOMAS
God shield ye, comrades of the road!
And while our way we hold,
List while I tell how it first befell
In the wondrous days of old.
* * * * *
From off the sea, the pilgrims came,
With sea-toil wracked and worn;
The air blew keen, and the frost was sheen,
Upon that wintry morn.
Through Glastonbury street went they;
And ever on, and on,
Till they pass the well of the fairy spell,
And the oak of Avalon.
They hear the rustling leaves and few,
That linger on the bough;
But still they fare through the bitter air,
And climb a hill-slope now.
On Weary-All-Hill their feet they stay
(Full well that Hill ye know);
There may they rest, by toil oppressed,
While round them drops the snow.
And one--far gone in age was he--
As snow, his locks were white--
The staff of thorn which he had borne,
Did plant upon that height.
A thorn-stick dry, that pilgrim staff,
He set it in the ground:
And, swift as sight, with blossoms white
The branching staff was crowned!
Each year since then (if sooth men say)
Upon this Blessed Morn,
Who climbs that Hill, may see at will
The flower upon the thorn!
Howe'er the wind may drive the sleet,
That thorn will blooming be;
And some have seen a fair Child lean
From out that blossomed tree!
One moment only--then, apace,
Both flower and leaf are shorn;
And, gaunt and chill, on Weary-All-Hill,
There stands an ancient thorn!
God shield ye, comrades of the road--
With grace your spirits fill,
That ye may see the White-thorn tree
A-bloom on Weary-All-Hill!
LEGEND OF ST. CHRISTOPHER
ADAPTED FROM THE GOLDEN LEGEND
There was a mighty man of old who dwelt in the land of Canaan. Large was
he and tall of stature and stronger than any man whom the world had ever
seen. Therefore was he called Offero, or, "The Bearer." Now he served the
king of Canaan, but he was proud of his great strength and upon a time it
came in his mind that he would seek the greatest king who then reigned and
him only would he serve and obey.
So he travelled from one country to another until at length he came to one
where ruled a powerful king whose fame was great in all the land.
"Thou art the conqueror of nations?" asked Offero.
"I am," replied the king.
"Then take me into your service, for I will serve none but the mightiest
of earth."
"That then am I," returned the king, "for truly I fear none."
So the king received Offero into his service and made him to dwell in his
court.
But once at eventide a minstrel sang before the king a merry song in which
he named oft the evil one. And every time that the king heard the name of
Satan he grew pale and hastily made the sign of the cross upon his
forehead. Offero marvelled thereat and demanded of the king the meaning of
the sign and wherefore he thus crossed himself. And because the king would
not tell him Offero said, "If thou tell me not, I shall no longer dwell
with thee." Then the king answered, saying, "Always when I hear Satan
named, I fear that he may have power over me and therefore I make this
sign that he harm me not."
"Who is Satan?" asked Offero.
"He is a wicked monarch," replied the king, "wicked but powerful."
"More powerful than thou art?"
"Aye, verily."
"And fearest thou that he hurt thee?"
"That do I, and so do all."
"Then," cried Offero, "is he more mighty and greater than thou art. I will
go seek him. Henceforth he shall be my master for I would fain serve the
mightiest and the greatest lord of all the world."
So Offero departed from the king and sought Satan. Everywhere he met
people who had given themselves over to his rule and at last one day as he
was crossing a wide desert he saw a great company of knights approaching.
One of them, mounted upon a great black horse, came to him and demanded
whither he went, and Offero made answer, "I seek Satan, for he is mighty,
and I would fain serve him."
Then returned the knight, "I am he whom thou seekest."
When Offero heard these words he was right glad and took Satan to be his
lord and master.
This king was indeed powerful and a long time did Offero serve him, but it
chanced one day as they were journeying together they came to a place
where four roads met and in the midst of the space stood a little cross.
As soon as Satan saw the cross he was afraid and turned quickly aside and
fled toward the desert. Offero followed him marvelling much at the sight.
And after, when they had come back to the highway they had left, he
inquired of Satan why he was thus troubled and had gone so far out of his
way to avoid the cross. But Satan answered him not a word.
Then Offero said to him, "If thou wilt not tell me, I shall depart from
thee straightway and shall serve thee no more."
"Know then," said Satan, "there was a man called Christ who suffered on
the cross and whenever I see his sign I am sore afraid and flee from it,
lest he destroy me."
"If then thou art afraid of his sign," cried Offero, "he is greater and
more mighty than thou, and I see well that I have labored in vain, for I
have not found the greatest lord of the world. I will serve thee no
longer. Go thy way alone, for I will go to seek Christ."
And when he had long sought and demanded where he should find Him, he came
at length into a great desert where dwelt a hermit, a servant of the
Christ. The hermit told him of the Master whom he was seeking and said to
him, "This king whom thou dost wish to serve is not an earthly ruler and
he requireth that thou oft fast and make many prayers."
But Offero understood not the meaning of worship and prayer and he
answered, "Require of me some other thing and I shall do it, but I know
naught of this which thou requirest."
Then the hermit said to him, "Knowest thou the river, a day's journey from
here, where there is neither ford nor bridge and many perish and are lost?
Thou art large and strong. Therefore go thou and dwell by this river and
bear over all who desire to cross its waters. That is a service which will
be well pleasing to the Christ whom thou desirest to serve, and sometime,
if I mistake not, he whom thou seekest will come to thee."
Offero was right joyful at these words and answered, "This service may I
well do."
So he hastened to the river and upon its banks he built himself a little
hut of reeds. He bare a great pole in his hand to sustain him in the water
and many weary wayfarers did he help to cross the turbulent stream. So he
lived a long time, bearing over all manner of people without ceasing, and
still he saw nothing of the Christ.
Now it happened one night that a storm was raging and the river was very
high. Tired with his labors, Offero had just flung himself down on his
rude bed to sleep when he heard the voice of a child which called him and
said, "Offero, Offero, come out and bear me over."
Offero arose and went out from his cabin, but in the darkness he could see
no one. And when he was again in the house, he heard the same voice and he
ran out again and found no one. A third time he heard the call and going
out once more into the storm, there upon the river bank he found a fair
young child who besought him in pleading tones, "Wilt thou not carry me
over the river this night, Offero?"
The strong man gently lifted the child on his shoulders, took his staff
and stepped into the stream. And the water of the river arose and swelled
more and more and the child was heavy as lead. And alway as he went
farther, higher and higher swelled the waters and the child more and more
waxed heavy, insomuch that he feared that they would both be drowned.
Already his strength was nearly gone, but he thought of his Master whom he
had not yet seen, and staying his footsteps with his palm staff struggled
with all his might to reach the opposite shore. As at last he climbed the
steep bank, suddenly the storm ceased and the waters calmed.
He set the child down upon the shore, saying, "Child, thou hast put me in
great peril. Had I carried the whole world on my shoulders, the weight had
not been greater. I might bear no greater burden."
"Offero," answered the child, "Marvel not, but rejoice; for thou hast
borne not only all the world upon thee, but thou hast borne him that
created and made all the world upon thy shoulders. I am Christ the king
whom thou servest in this work. And for a token, that thou mayst know what
I say to be the truth, set thy staff in the earth by thy house and thou
shalt see in the morning that it shall bear flowers and fruit." With these
words the child vanished from Offero's sight.
But Offero did even as he was bidden and set his staff in the earth and
when he arose on the morrow, he found it like a palm-tree bearing flowers
and leaves and clusters of dates. Then he knew that it was indeed Christ
whom he had borne through the waters and he rejoiced that he had found his
Master. From that day he served Christ faithfully and was no more called
Offero, but Christopher, the Christ bearer.
ST. CHRISTOPHER OF THE GAEL
FIONA MACLEOD
Behind the wattle-woven house
Nial the Mighty gently crept
From out a screen of ashtree boughs
To where a captive white-robe slept.
Lightly he moved, as though ashamed;
To right and left he glanced his fears.
Nial the Mighty was he named
Though but an untried youth in years--
But tall he was, as tall as he,
White Dermid of the magic sword,
Or Torcall of the Hebrid Sea
Or great Cuhoolin of the Ford;
Strong as the strongest, too, he was:
As Balor of the Evil Eye;
As Fionn who kept the Ulster Pass
From dawn till blood-flusht sunset sky.
Much had he pondered all that day
The mystery of the men who died
On crosses raised along the way,
And perished singing side by side.