The Soul of Christmas

THE SOUL OF CHRISTMAS Christmas time has come again, With blessings rich and rare, Like radio waves, from all our friends, Tuned in from everywhere. Our hearts are filled with gratitude, And life seems fresh and new Because we share with others, Their joys and sorrows too. How grand and glorious is the thought That, on this Christmas day. We celebrate unselfishly, In such a fitting way, The birth of him who taught us how To live and happy be, Through sacrifice and service And deeds that keep us free From sorrow, sin or vain regrets, From harm or ill design, And to us gave those precious gifts: His attributes divine. And then to know the Father Of such a noble one, So loved the world he freely gave His own Begotten Son. That through obedience to his will, Life's victory we'll have won, And hear the Master's welcome words: "Enter thou in, well done." The story of the Master's life, To us has oft been told, And, like the joy that Christmas brings, It never does grow old. Another story you shall hear, Of rich man's gen'rous giving To those who did not need his gifts, Yet praised his selfish living. He gave a portion of his wealth To the edifice of Fame , That on the front, in gilded form, . He might inscribe his name. But when the widow came to ask Favor at his hand, With children five, to clothe and feed This little orphan band, He bade the servants close the door, No beggar may intrude, That Christmas Eve he might enjoy In quiet solitude. His mansion great with grandeur shone, Artistic, rich design. He ate a sumptuous evening meal And revelled in the wine. The widow to her home returned, The night was cold and chilled. A year-old babe lay at death's door And her sad heart was filled With love for those five little ones O'er whom she watched with care; And prayed the Lord to bless their lives, Then helped to grant that prayer. The rich man's faithful gardener, a father old and gray. Had beautified the premises for years at scanty pay. His home, a little lumber shack, erected over there. Far from the beauteous garden, the city and its glare. The gardener and his loving wife were happv as could be. In serving, giving and helping those in need, unselfishly. That Christmas Eve, when others slept or revelled in their glee, They typified our Master's love in deeds of charity. Through wintry winds and frost and snow, this gardener made His way, Like Santa Claus to orphan homes, he drove the clpuds away. 'Twas nearing midnight's cheerless hour, to the widow's home he came. He paused a moment at the door, and heard her there proclaim

126 IMPROVEMENT ERA Her faith in that great unseen Power, that loved ones might not plead In vain for Santa Claus to come, and bless in time of need. And Oh, the joy his presence brought, when he came bolting through, With presents for each chick and child and mother's present, too. Those little tots would soon awake that Christmas Morn, to find Their earnest prayers were answered, through faith and love divine. And while these blessings they enjoyed, that glorious Christmas Eve, The rich man fell into a sleep — A vision did receive: He dreamed he died and went beyond to that eternal world; The just reward to mortal man before him was unfurled. He passed on through the pearly gates with Vanity and Pride. An Angel bade him welcome there, offering, as his guide. To show him all the splendors great, the city rich and grand, And also gloomy places, too, that he might understand. They viewed the mansions and the parks, the gardens and the flowers. He marveled at their grandeurs vast, beyond one's human powers To ever think or realize how glorious it would be, To live in such environment, through all Eternity. They paused at one selected spot where gardens, flowers, trees And sweetest chimes of singing birds were all designed to please. A mansion, too, was near complete which nothing could excel. He told the guide: "I love this best, say, whose is this, pray tell?" "Your gardener and his wife own this, and soon they'll know the worth Of all the good which they have done for mortals there on earth. "Their toils of life are nearly done, and they will soon be free To mingle with this happy throng, through all Eternity." They passed on through this land so fair, and came unto a place Where naught but sorrow and regret marked each unhappy face. A lumber shack was being built, one lonely man at work; And he, in careless, shiftless form, His duties seemed to shirk. "And what is this, pray, may I ask?" the angel, in dismay, Replied, "I fain would answer this, but I can only say "That this is your Eternal Home, and this is your reward For good accomplished while on earth, which justice can afford. "The architests and builders do the very best they can, With materials sent to Heaven by every mortal man." Awakening from that glorious dream, So may our thoughts, our words and He resolved that he would be deeds, A blessed benefactor now Be such that we can claim To all humanity. Success and Peace and Happiness, And Glory to our name. That Christmas Day was spent by him In helping those in need. That when the call shall come to us, With happiness the void was filled, To leave this mortal sphere, Where once was selfish greed. We'll live in mansions up above With those we love so dear. Morgan, Utah JAMES A. ANDERSON