Christmas Tales and Christmas Verse | Page 9

subtile and divine that in its silent
communion with them, Joel's heart cried out amen and amen to the
glory of the Christmas time.
THE THREE KINGS OF COLOGNE
From out Cologne there came three kings
To worship Jesus Christ,
their King.
To Him they sought fine herbs they brought,
And many
a beauteous golden thing;
They brought their gifts to Bethlehem town,

And in that manger set them down.
Then spake the first king, and he said:
"O Child, most heavenly,
bright, and fair!
I bring this crown to Bethlehem town
For Thee,
and only Thee, to wear;
So give a heavenly crown to me
When I

shall come at last to Thee!"
The second, then. "I bring Thee here
This royal robe, O Child!" he
cried;
"Of silk 'tis spun, and such an one
There is not in the world
beside;
So in the day of doom requite
Me with a heavenly robe of
white!"
The third king gave his gift, and quoth:
"Spikenard and myrrh to Thee
I bring,
And with these twain would I most fain
Anoint the body of
my King;
So may their incense sometime rise
To plead for me in
yonder skies!"
Thus spake the three kings of Cologne,
That gave their gifts, and
went their way;
And now kneel I in prayer hard by
The cradle of
the Child to-day;
Nor crown, nor robe, nor spice I bring
As offering
unto Christ, my King.
Yet have I brought a gift the Child
May not despise, however small;

For here I lay my heart to-day,
And it is full of love to all.
Take
Thou the poor but loyal thing,
My only tribute, Christ, my King!
THE COMING OF THE PRINCE
I
"Whirr-r-r! whirr-r-r! whirr-r-r!" said the wind, and it tore through the
streets of the city that Christmas eve, turning umbrellas inside out,
driving the snow in fitful gusts before it, creaking the rusty signs and
shutters, and playing every kind of rude prank it could think of.
"How cold your breath is to-night!" said Barbara, with a shiver, as she
drew her tattered little shawl the closer around her benumbed body.
"Whirr-r-r! whirr-r-r! whirr-r-r!" answered the wind; "but why are you
out in this storm? You should be at home by the warm fire."
"I have no home," said Barbara; and then she sighed bitterly, and

something like a tiny pearl came in the corner of one of her sad blue
eyes.
But the wind did not hear her answer, for it had hurried up the street to
throw a handful of snow in the face of an old man who was struggling
along with a huge basket of good things on each arm.
"Why are you not at the cathedral?" asked a snowflake, as it alighted on
Barbara's shoulder. "I heard grand music, and saw beautiful lights there
as I floated down from the sky a moment ago."
"What are they doing at the cathedral?" inquired Barbara.
"Why, haven't you heard?" exclaimed the snowflake. "I supposed
everybody knew that the prince was coming to-morrow."
"Surely enough; this is Christmas eve," said Barbara, "and the prince
will come to-morrow."
Barbara remembered that her mother had told her about the prince, how
beautiful and good and kind and gentle he was, and how he loved the
little children; but her mother was dead now, and there was none to tell
Barbara of the prince and his coming,--none but the little snowflake.
"I should like to see the prince," said Barbara, "for I have heard he was
very beautiful and good."
"That he is," said the snowflake. "I have never seen him, but I heard the
pines and the firs singing about him as I floated over the forest
to-night."
"Whirr-r-r! whirr-r-r!" cried the wind, returning boisterously to where
Barbara stood. "I've been looking for you everywhere, little snowflake!
So come with me."
And without any further ado, the wind seized upon the snowflake and
hurried it along the street and led it a merry dance through the icy air of
the winter night.

Barbara trudged on through the snow and looked in at the bright things
in the shop windows. The glitter of the lights and the sparkle of the vast
array of beautiful Christmas toys quite dazzled her. A strange mingling
of admiration, regret, and envy filled the poor little creature's heart.
"Much as I may yearn to have them, it cannot be," she said to herself,
"yet I may feast my eyes upon them."
"Go away from here!" said a harsh voice. "How can the rich people see
all my fine things if you stand before the window? Be off with you, you
miserable little beggar!"
It was the shopkeeper, and he gave Barbara a savage box on the ear that
sent her reeling into the deeper snowdrifts of the gutter.
Presently she came to a large house where there seemed to be much
mirth and festivity. The shutters were thrown open, and