B L D No. 23

The Christmas Spirit

I enter the home of poverty
causing pale-faced children to open their
eyes wide in pleased wonder.

I cause the miser’s clutched hand to relax
and thus paint a bright spot on his soul.

I cause the aged to renew their youth
and to laugh in the glad old way.

I keep romance alive in the heart of childhood
and brighten sleep with dreams woven of magic.

I cause eager feet to climb dark stairways
with filled baskets, leaving behind hearts
amazed at the goodness of the world.

I cause the prodigal to pause a moment on his wild
wasteful way and send to anxious love some little token
that releases glad tears;
tears which wash away the hard lines of sorrow.

I enter dark prison cells
reminding scarred manhood of what might have been
and pointing forward to good days yet to come.

I come softly into the still white home of pain
and lips that are too weak to speak
just tremble in silent eloquent gratitude.

In a thousand ways
I cause the weary world to look up into the face of God
and for a little moment
forget the things that are small and wretched.

I am the Christmas Spirit!

~~ Unknown ~~