Love’s Christmas Tales
By Llewellyn A. Morrison
When bells are pealing Christmas’ times,
We read the dear old stories over,
And in the rhythm of their chimes,
Do each become an ardent lover
Of all the charming tales they tell:
The angel Gabriel’s great embassage;
The virgin’s song—that triumphs still;
And Zacharias’ wondrous message. We always go by Bethlehem,
And in the stable find the manger.
Before the Babe, we bow with them
Who reverence pay the heavenly Stranger.
Within, the cattle standing near,
The mother on the straw reclining;
Without, the midnight winds we hear,
Where the white wintry stars are shining. Once more the mighty chorus breaks
The stillness where the flocks lie dreaming;
While every wondering shepherd wakes
To hear the psalm, and see the gleaming.
The wise men bring their gifts and gold;
We learn of Shiloh’s visitation,
The name on temple books enrolled,
And saintly Simeon’s exaltation. These are not fiction. Mortal mind
Would not so from the chaos mold them
In all their sweetness, love refined,—
Our God alone hath plann’d and told them.
We scan their matchless logic o’er,
The mightiest minds may scarce expand them;
Yet, in their mystic, simple lore,
A little child can understand them. San Francisco, California.