The Spirit of Christmas | Page 4

enter into
them and possess them? Even the gods that men fashion for themselves
are cruel and proud and false and unjust. How shall the miracle be
wrought in human nature to reveal the meaning of humanity? How
shall men be made like God?"
At this question a deep hush fell around the circle, and every listener
was still, even as the rustling leaves hang motionless when the light
breeze falls away in the hour of sunset. Then through the silence, like
the song of a far-away thrush from its hermitage in the forest, a voice
came ringing: "I know it, I know it, I know it."
Clear and sweet--clear as a ray of light, sweeter than the smallest silver
bell that rang the hour of rest--was that slender voice floating on the
odorous and translucent air. Nearer and nearer it came, echoing down
the valley, "I know it, I know it, I know it!"
Then from between the rounded hills, among which the brook of
Brighthopes is born, appeared a young angel, a little child, with flying
hair of gold, and green wreaths twined about his shoulders, and
fluttering hands that played upon the air and seemed to lift him so
lightly that he had no need of wings. As thistle-down, blown by the
wind, dances across the water, so he came along the little stream,
singing clear above the murmur of the brook.
All the angels rose and turned to look at him with wondering eyes.
Multitudes of others came flying swiftly to the place from which the
strange, new song was sounding. Rank within rank, like a garden of

living flowers, they stood along the sloping banks of the brook while
the child-angel floated into the midst of them, singing:
"I know it, I know it, I know it! Man shall be made like God because
the Son of God shall become a man."
At this all the angels looked at one another with amazement, and
gathered more closely about the child-angel, as those who hear
wonderful news.
"How can this be?" they asked. "How is it possible that the Son of God
should be a man?"
"I do not know," said the young angel. "I only know that it is to be."
"But if he becomes a man," said Raphael, "he will be at the mercy of
men; the cruel and the wicked will have power upon him; he will
suffer."
"I know it," answered the young angel, "and by suffering he will
understand the meaning of all sorrow and pain; and he will be able to
comfort every one who cries; and his own tears will be for the healing
of sad hearts; and those who are healed by him will learn for his sake to
be kind to each other."
"But if the Son of God is a true man," said Uriel, "he must first be a
child, simple, and lowly, and helpless. It may be that he will never gain
the learning of the schools. The masters of earthly wisdom will despise
him and speak scorn of him."
"I know it," said the young angel, "but in meekness will he answer
them; and to those who become as little children he will give the
heavenly wisdom that comes, without seeking, to the pure and gentle of
heart."
"But if he becomes a man," said Michael, "evil men will hate and
persecute him: they may even take his life, if they are stronger than he."
"I know it," answered the young angel, "they will nail him to a cross.
But when he is lifted up, he will draw all men unto him, for he will still
be the Son of God, and no heart that is open to love can help loving
him, since his love for men is so great that he is willing to die for
them."
"But how do you know these things?" cried the other angels. "Who are
you?"
"I am the Christmas angel," he said. "At first I was sent as the dream of
a little child, a holy child, blessed and wonderful, to dwell in the heart

of a pure virgin, Mary of Nazareth. There I was hidden till the word
came to call me back to the throne of the King, and tell me my name,
and give me my new message. For this is Christmas day on Earth, and
to-day the Son of God is born of a woman. So I must fly quickly,
before the sun rises, to bring the good news to those happy men who
have been chosen to receive them."
As he said this, the young angel rose, with arms outspread, from the
green meadow of Peacefield and, passing over the bounds of Heaven,
dropped swiftly as a shooting-star toward the night shadow of