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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 relax, 
and thus paint a bright spot on his soul. 

I cause the aged to renew their youth 
and to laugh in the glad old 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 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 

(unknown)

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