Christmas in Legend and Story | Page 8

they moved silently along, the
snow beneath their feet was changed to grass and flowers, and the

icicles which had dropped from the trees covered their pathway like
stars in the Milky Way.
Following at a distance, yet close enough to see them, came Madelon
with Melampo at her heels. Over the hills they travelled on until
Madelon lost sight of their own hillside. Farther and farther the
shepherds went until they passed David's well, and entered the city.
Berachah led the way.
"How shall we know?" whispered Simon. And the others answered,
"Hush, we must await the sign."
When at last they had compassed the crescent of Bethlehem's hills, they
halted by an open doorway at a signal from their leader. "The manger,"
they joyfully murmured, "the manger! We have found the new-born
King!"
One by one the shepherds entered. One by one they fell on their knees.
Away in the shadow stood the little girl, her hand on Melampo's head.
In wonder she gazed while the shepherds presented their gifts, and were
permitted each to hold for a moment the newborn Saviour.
Melampo, the shepherd dog, crouched on the ground, as if he too, like
the ox and the ass within, would worship the Child. Madelon turned
toward the darkness weeping. Then, lifting her face to heaven, she
prayed that God would bless Mother and Baby. Melampo moved closer
to her, dumbly offering his companionship, and, raising his head,
seemed to join in her petition. Once more she looked at the
worshipping circle.
"Alas," she grieved, "no gift have I for the infant Saviour. Would that I
had but a flower to place in His hand."
Suddenly Melampo stirred by her side, and as she turned again from
the manger she saw before her an angel, the light from whose face
illumined the darkness, and whose look of tenderness rested on her
tear-stained eyes.
"Why grievest thou, maiden?" asked the angel.
"That I come empty-handed to the cradle of the Saviour, that I bring no
gift to greet Him," she murmured.
"The gift of thine heart, that is the best of all," answered the angel. "But
that thou mayst carry something to the manger, see, I will strike with
my staff upon the ground."
Wonderingly Madelon waited. From the dry earth wherever the angel's

staff had touched sprang fair, white roses. Timidly she stretched out her
hand toward the nearest ones. In the light of the angel's smile she
gathered them, until her arms were filled with flowers. Again she
turned toward the manger, and quietly slipped to the circle of kneeling
shepherds.
Closer she crept to the Child, longing, yet fearing, to offer her gift.
"How shall I know," she pondered, "whether He will receive this my
gift as His own?"
Berachah gazed in amazement at Madelon and the roses which she held.
How came his child there, his child whom he had left safe on the
hillside? And whence came such flowers! Truly this was a wonder
night.
Step by step she neared the manger, knelt, and placed a rose in the
Baby's hand. As the shepherds watched in silence, Mary bent over her
Child, and Madelon waited for a sign. "Will He accept them?" she
questioned. "How, oh, how shall I know?" As she prayed in humble
silence, the Baby's eyes opened slowly, and over His face spread a
smile.

THE LITTLE GRAY LAMB
ARCHIBALD BERESFORD SULLIVAN
Out on the endless purple hills, deep in the clasp of somber night, The
shepherds guarded their weary ones-- guarded their flocks of cloudy
white, That like a snowdrift in silence lay, Save one little lamb with its
fleece of gray.
Out on the hillside all alone, gazing afar with sleepless eyes, The little
gray lamb prayed soft and low, its weary face to the starry skies: "O
moon of the heavens so fair, so bright, Give me--oh, give me--a fleece
of white!"
No answer came from the dome of blue, nor comfort lurked in the
cypress-trees; But faint came a whisper borne along on the scented
wings of the passing breeze: "Little gray lamb that prays this night, I
cannot give thee a fleece of white."
Then the little gray lamb of the sleepless eyes prayed to the clouds for a
coat of snow, Asked of the roses, besought the woods; but each gave
answer sad and low: "Little gray lamb that prays this night, We cannot
give thee a fleece of white."

Like a gem unlocked from a casket dark, like an ocean pearl from its
bed of blue, Came, softly stealing the clouds between, a wonderful star
which brighter grew Until it flamed like the sun by day Over the place
where Jesus lay.
Ere hushed were the angels' notes of praise the joyful shepherds had
quickly