CHRISTMAS SPIRIT
I am the Christmas Spirit — I enter the home of poverty, causing palefaced 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 old glad 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 be. I come softly into the still white home of pain, and…
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