I am 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
and thus paint a bright spot on his soul.
I cause the aged to renew their
and to laugh in the glad old way.
I keep romance alive in the heart of
and brighten sleep with dreams woven of magic.
I cause eager feet to climb dark
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.
The babe born upon this day