Poems (Waldenburg)/A Christmas Legend
Sacred.
A CHRISTMAS LEGEND.
In convent prayed a fervent saint of oldFor answer how he best could serve his Lord."Think not,dear Christ, Thy servant overboldThat he entreats Thy presence or Thy word;Show to my eyes Thy holy, heavenly glory,Give me some mighty work Thy praise to tell,Let me proclaim to wondering ears the storyOf Thine appearance in a poor monk's cell."Twas winter, and the chiming bells outpouringUpon the frosty air did sound so clear,Like clarion notes of angels, who adoringChanted their songs, that Heaven and earth might hear.The holy Christmas-tide was close at handThe glorious season of the Savior's birth,And gently falling snow o'er all the land,Seemed telling of good will and peace, to earth!
With praying eyes the monk in dream elysian,Knelt with a trembling hope, and faith sublimeThat to his longing gaze would come the visionOf Him, whose reign shall be through coming time! And lo! a silver light came o'er him streaming,A dazzling brightness from another sphere;And like a seraph's whisper heard in dreaming,Was borne this sentence to his wondering ear;"I hear your prayer, you wish a noble task,And this I give you for my day of birth—Make glad my children, feed my poor, I askCare for the suffering, sinful ones of earth,Seek these, and comfort them, this charityThe mighty work that thou canst do for me."Twas silent. Then with timid, reverent sightThe monk gazed upward and within his cellSaw Christ the God-child clad in raiment white,While round His shining form a halo fellSo bright he could not look, and bowed his head;Then longing more to see the face so mild,Lifted his eyes to find the vision fled—The lovely vision of the Jesu-child!
The monk arose. Out from the convent door,Over the snow to call the children in;Begging for alms to feed the hungry poor,And gather them the convent walls within.From north and south, and from the west and east,The erring, poor, and suffering, he brought,Warmed them and made a glorious Christmas feast,While on the birthday of the Lord, he taughtTo them His mercy and His charity.Then round the Christmas tree the children sang, Their voices jubilant with childish glee,Loudly the choral thro' the clear air rang"Our Blessed Lord was once a child as we!""Dear Christ," low prayed the monk, "that this may beIn every year, my welcome feast to thee!"
And we in age remote the lesson given,Can we not also join this feast to make,This glorious work to please the Lord of HeavenWho lived and suffered for our human sake?Give Him the feast, with children's joy and play,And make the sad ones glad, on Christmas day!