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Good-nature Or Parish Matters
Mr. Stanley had just reached the last stile in the ...

A Ballade Of Old Loves
CAROLYN WELLS Who is it stands on the polish...

December
HARRIET F. BLODGETT I Oh! holly branc...

Love Is The Whole
A STORY FOR CHILDREN. This is a story about some c...

A Prayer At Bethlehem
ANNE P.L. FIELD O pulsing earth with heart a...

Mr Bluffs Experiences Of Holidays
OLIVER BELL BUNCE I hate holidays, said Bachelor Blu...

Christmas At Fezziwig's Warehouse
CHARLES DICKENS Yo ho! my boys, said Fezziwig. No mo...





Christmas Carol






JAMES S. PARK

So crowded was the little town
On the first Christmas day,
Tired Mary Mother laid her down
To rest upon the hay.
(Ah, would my door might have been thrown
Wide open on her way!)

But when the Holy Babe was born
In the deep hush of night,
It seemed as if a Sabbath morn
Had come with sacred light.
Child Jesus made the place forlorn
With his own beauty bright.

The manger rough was all his rest;
The cattle, having fed,
Stood silent by, or closer pressed,
And gravely wondered.
(Ah, Lord, if only that my breast
Had cradled Thee instead!)





Next: Neighbors Of The Christ Night

Previous: The Shepherds In Judea



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