WOMAN'S EASTER BY LUCY LARCOM
With Mary, ere dawn in the garden,
I stand at the tomb of the Lord;
I share in her sorrowing wonder;
I hear through the darkness a word, —
The first the dear Master hath spoken,
Since the awful death stillness was broken.
He calleth her tenderly, — "Mary"!
Sweet, sweet is His voice in the gloom.
He spake to us first, oh my sisters,
So breathing our lives into bloom!
He lifteth our souls out of prison!
We, earliest, saw Him arisen!
He lives! Read you not the glad tidings
In our eyes, that have gazed into His?
He lives! By His light on our faces
Believe it, and come where He is !
O doubter, and you who denied Him,
Return to your places beside Him!
The message of His resurrection
To man it was woman's to give:
It is fresh in her heart through the ages:
" He lives, that ye also may live,
Unfolding, as He hath the story
Of manhood's attainable glory."
O Sun, on our souls first arisen,
Give us light for the spirits that grope!
Make us loving and steadfast and loyal
To bear up humanity's hope!
O Friend, who forsakest us never,
Breathe through us thy errands forever!
Saturday, February 12, 2022
Woman's Easter by Lucy Larcom
Day Dawn - A Quiet Talk On Easter
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| Ringing In The Easter Morn! |
Contrasts make things stand out. Black touching white seems blacker, and the white looks whiter. Sorrow makes joy seem gladder. Joy makes sorrow seem sadder. The deeper the sorrow, the greater is the uplift of joy following, after the first daze is over. That first Easter morning stood in sharpest contrast with what went before. The greatest possible contrast is between life and death. All sorrow and darkness and heaviness brood in the black word — death. All gladness and brightness and lightness gather up at their best in that lightsome word — life.
The Saturday before Easter was filled with deepest gloom. While Jesus still hung on the cross, there was hope. While life remained there was a sort of expectancy that he might yet do something startling. His short life had been full of things that startled men. Surely he is allowing all this shameful treatment that he may do something to completely offset it. But now that last straggling, struggling hope has gone quite out. The life is out of his body. The body is in the sealed- up tomb. What a long day that Saturday was. The longest, darkest, saddest the human heart has known. Those hearts had been lifted to the highest pitch ever experienced. And the depression is as deep down as the other was high up.
That night his disciples slept the heavy sleep of disappointed men, with sore hearts at their sorest. But while they slept something was taking place. The darkest hour was bringing forth brightest light, though they didn't know it. Jesus is always doing more for us than we know. The day always begins a bit earlier than we realize. Night goes sooner than we think. While they slept, Jesus rose. Up through the wrapping cloths, up through the solid rock of the new hewn tomb
Jesus rose. Hate's work was undone. Sin's worst was worsted. The tomb became a birthplace, the birth-place of a new life, a new sort of life. Out of death came forth life. Out of the place of darkest hate shone tenderest love. Out of the poison-house of sin came sweetest purity. Out of what seemed the defeat of Jesus, came the wondrous victory of God.
Then the angels came in garments of light, and rolled away the stone, and did guard only over the tomb that all comers might plainly see that Jesus was no longer there, but had risen.
A MORNING OF LIFE
Then it was morning, a new morning, whose newness has never lost its dewy freshness, the world's new morning. But the light that came was too bright for the eyes it met. It dazzled. Eyes long steeped in darkness were stupefied by it, dazed, until they got used to it. But its overwhelming brilliance gave a certainty that was beyond question. These disciples and women are like children suddenly roused up out of sound sleep by an intense light shining directly into their faces. They blink and stagger, and talk in jerky sentences until they become measurably used to the fact that Jesus has indeed risen. Though the wonder of it, they never do get used to. But they quickly find their feet, and go steadily on, amidst bitterest opposition and sorest persecution. That light still shining in their faces, holds them steady through all the days.
Nobody ever was so completely taken by surprise as were these disciples of Jesus. This of itself is tremendous evidence. Their conduct those first few days makes the best book on Christian evidences ever penned. Their utter lack of expectation, their startled surprise, their apparent inability to believe what had actually occurred, the stubborn doubter holding obstinately out for eight days — then, homely, plain facts that completely removed all of this, and swept the last questioner in.
Mary knew, not only by the voice repeating her name, and by the presence at first mistaken for a gardener, but by being given something to do. That was satisfying evidence to her. The Master was acting in his old way. The women knew by the feel of their fingers upon his feet, and the sound of that never-to-be-mistaken voice. Peter knew when, all alone, the eyes that drew the bitter tears in the courtyard, now looked again into his. You could not befool Peter about those eyes. The Emmaus couple knew by the wondrous talking, by their burning hearts, but the man sitting at the same table, the broken loaf in their hands, and that suddenly recognized face. The upper-room company knew by the fish being taken, and the bit of barley loaf — could there be homelier, saner, simpler evidence? The cautious, square-jawed Thomas knew by the feel of those scarred hands, and the rude-edged hole in the side, and his jaw relaxed into a glad, worshipful recognition of Jesus, his Lord, and his God. Long after, the studious, keenly trained schoolman of Tarsus knew by the blinding light, and the quiet, penetrating voice, that completely reversed the high-pressure engine of his career.
THE GOSPEL OF THE BODY
Jesus' resurrection was a real thing. It was a rising up of His body out of death. Of course it must have been that, for resurrection is only of the body. Resurrection is a body word. It cannot be properly used directly except of the body. Other use is rhetorical, figurative and secondary. The spirit of Jesus was not killed nor buried. That which went down, came up again. Resurrection is a truth regarding the body.
A man's body distinguishes him from the higher orders. It is a sacred thing. It is his personality in tangible shape. It comes to be the mold of his spirit. It is his biography. Every man carries about with him his life-story, from birth to death. Though few are skilled in reading it, and none read it fully. His body is the home-spot of his spirit. It is a bit of himself, his identity. So we know the man.
The body bears the brunt of the pain that comes through the breaks in the natural rhythm made by the man living in it. It becomes his scapegoat. It takes much of the punishment that sin brings. It is to share the joy of release from sin, and sin's results. Our bodies are precious to us. They are precious to our loved ones. In them we have lived, on them we have leaned, with them we have companioned, through them we have given expression to all our loves and fears. They are a part of us. We will not be less in the upper, future life than we have been here, but more. We have sadly ignored and abused our bodies. That is only bad. Some holy men have seemed to think lightly of the body as though a mean thing, or temporary. That too is bad. The resurrection teaches us the worth, the dignity, the sacredness of our bodies. It is through bodily functions that we come into life. It is our bodies coming into being that permits us to come into being. At the touch of God, the new spirit comes into being in a body prepared, slowly, carefully, usually painfully, prepared for it. We should love our bodies, study them, care for them, train them, hold them true to their great service of ministering to the spirit within. They should be kept pure and sweet and sound. It is their due, and the due of the two great spirits living in them. They are temples of our spirits, and of the Spirit of God. The resurrection is the gospel of the body. Thereby Jesus tells us to reverence our bodies.
WE SHALL BE CHANGED
But mark keenly that Jesus' body was changed in the resurrection. It was a change for the better. It was lifted to a higher plane of life. It became superior to what it had been. We are apt, in thinking of the difficulties of our own resurrection, to keep thinking of the body as we know it. But it will be a changed body. With Jesus the limitations were gone. His body had been limited as is ours. It needed food and rest, air and exercise. It could work only so long; then came fatigue. He got from place to place by effort, walking, or combining his thought and skill and work with nature, as sailing a boat or riding a donkey. He entered a building through openings made for the purpose. When the new life came, the resurrection life, these limitations are gone. He is free of the need of food and rest. All tiredness is gone. He goes as quickly and easily from place to place as thought can travel. He was free of material obstructions such as walls, going where he would by willing to be there.
The resurrection of Jesus was a natural result of his life of perfect obedience to the will of God. It was the next stage up of his perfect life. Perhaps these bodily limitations simply belong to an apprenticeship period of life. They may be the scaffolding while the life is building. They may belong to the earlier stage of life. The resurrection conditions found in Jesus belong to the next higher stage.
But there are changes for us in addition to these that Jesus experienced. We shall know the change he knew. We are assured of that. But there is more for us. Because there has been more in us, namely sin, there is more for us. Jesus knew one change from the life before death to a new sort of life after resurrection. We shall know two changes. This that he knew, and also a change reversing sin's changes. Our bodies have been changed by sin, as his was not. These changes made by sin shall be changed back, and up. It will be a return to first conditions. Man's body has known bad changes through sin. It will know blessed changes through the removal of sin. Pain, sickness, weakness, immaturity, stunted growth, liability to death — these Jesus never knew in his own person. They are sin's work. They will be removed. We shall all be changed, and shall be all changed through and through. We shall be like him.
THE WORLD'S SPRINGTIME
Easter comes from East. The one word gives the other. East means the dawn. The original festival of Easter celebrated the spring, the new dawn of the year, and of the earth's life. It is a happy borrowing of a word from our brothers of the earlier ages. Jesus' rising is an Easter, a dawn, the dawn of day for man, and for the earth.
Easter spells out beauty, the rare beauty of new life. Is life ever so sweet and beautiful as when it comes up new and fresh in the spring? The green has a fairer hue, the flower a softer, deeper coloring, the air a new balmy freshness and the dew a sweeter fragrance. Jesus' rising was the beginning of the world's springtime. But it seems to be a slow spring, late in opening up, a retarded spring, held back by some hard frosts, and rough winter storms. But the sun is coming nearer all the while. It will be warmer soon. Winter will all go.
When Jesus comes again the frosts will go. Then comes in fully the world's new spring of life, and then the summer full-fruits. The church is not agreed about when that will be and some see it a long way off, as a sort of great celebration after great victory. Some of us think he may come in any generation, and his coming bring the great victory. But all are practically agreed that he is to come. When he comes — nobody knows when — then comes the full-fruits of the harvest of life. His coming means release for us up into the resurrection life. It means reunion with those who have slipped from our grasp. They will come back when he comes back. They come with him. A wondrous spring morning that!
" And in the morn those angel faces smile,
Which I have loved long since,
And lost awhile."
And the thought makes the heart beat faster, as it
fervently repeats John's Patmos prayer, " Come, Lord
Jesus."
When it is a bit dark with you, may be a good bit, a deep biting bit of dark, cheer up, there's a dawn coming. When it is winter in your life, snowbound, icebound, frozen up and frozen in, pull out the full organ stop of your soul and let the music out, for there's a spring coming. And in its wonder the winter will be sheer forgot. Jesus' springtime of a new life seems to be about due. It may be in your heart now, in your life, like the first crocus up through the snow. It is to be in all the earth. Let us live with our faces turned toward the rising sun — the risen Son. by S. D. Gordon
The Crescent And The Cross
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| See how to craft an Easter Sunrise. |
THE CRESCENT AND THE CROSS
BY THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH
Kind was my friend who, in the Eastern land,
Remembered me with such a gracious hand,
And sent this Moorish Crescent, which has been
Worn on the haughty bosom of a queen.
No more it sinks and rises in unrest
To the soft music of her heathen breast;
No barbarous chief shall bow before it more,
No turban'd slave shall envy and adore.
I place beside this relic of the Sun
A Cross of cedar brought from Lebanon,
Once borne, perchance, by some pale monk who trod
The desert to Jerusalem — and his God!
Here do they lie, two symbols of two creeds,
Each meaning something to our human needs;
Both stained with blood, and sacred made by faith,
By tears and prayers, and martyrdom and death.
That for the Moslem is, but this for me!
The waning Crescent lacks divinity:
It gives me dreams of battles, and the woes
Of women shut in dim seraglios.
But when this Cross of simple wood I see,
The Star of Bethlehem shines again for me,
And glorious visions break upon my gloom —
The patient Christ, and Mary at the tomb.
The Easter Message
THE EASTER MESSAGE by Charles E. Hesselgrave
Less than a century ago there were growing up in some of the cultured Christian homes of New England many children who later realized with regret that during their childhood days they had never known the symbolism or ever heard the name of Easter. Yet no more significant, spontaneous, or universally attractive festival has ever been instituted than that which celebrates the return of spring, the budding of leaves and flowers, and the triumphant hope that eternally beckons forward the human race.
Older than Christianity and deeply rooted in the love of life itself, the spirit of Easter finds its most perfect expression in the Resurrection story of Jesus, There is, indeed, good cheer in the sight of flowers lifting their faces once more toward the sunlight, after the frosts and storms of winter have spent their force. The swelling seeds and changing tints of green give promise of the coming harvests and assure us of nature's ready response to our physical needs. The songs of the birds and the humming of the bees remind us of the rising tide of life that surrounds us and through countless channels is rushing onward with the pulse beat of recurring years. In all this stir of creative energy, this bursting of winter's fetters and the renewal of life's struggle for undisputed supremacy, we feel a kindling interest and secret joy, which carry us outside the old limitations and broaden the horizons of our purposes and hopes.
But did the springtime come and go with no other message of inspiration, the world of mankind would grow old and weary and discouraged with its toil and disappointment, its wasting wars and ceaseless oppressions, its heroic attempts and saddening failures, and the oft recurring sight of its shining ideals cast to the earth and trampled upon by the gross feet of selfishness and indifference. Humanity knows but too well its own weakness and defects. Memory as well as science reminds us that one spring is like another, that man's life too is but a coming and a going, as the budding spring bursts into summer and comes at last to rest beneath winter's snow. But Easter adds the everlasting crown to man's hope and inspiration in the Resurrection story. Therein we pass from intimations of nature into the realm of human struggle and aspiration where the organizing forces of life surge to and fro with tragic consequence and man more often questions the worth of the final result.
Back to the Gospel source go those whose faith in human possibilities and courage for unmeasured tasks must needs be renewed in some life giving stream. Not only in the buds and blossoms may we see the victory of life, but also in the story of Calvary and the Garden, where we find goodness and righteousness eternally triumphant over villainy and injustice, non-resistence over aggression, humility over pride, holiness over sin, love over hate. We are assured that though evil may hold the reins for a season, dominion and power belong ultimately to justice and right. How- ever complete may be the temporary defeat of truth, error shall not always abide.
Easter proclaims that man shall overcome all his foes, including death itself. His pathway may lead him through the sorrows of Gethsemane, the pain and darkness of Calvary, nevertheless his winter of distress will yet turn to the spring of delight, defeat will be forgotten in the joy of final victory, and the life of the spirit will rise in glory from the shadows of the grave.
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| Traditionally dyed eggs, the an ancient symbol of new life. |
An Easter Song
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| The Tomb IS Empty! |
AN EASTER SONG by Susan Coolidge
A song of sunshine through the rain,
Of spring across the snow,
A balm to heal the hurts of pain,
A peace surpassing woe.
Lift up your heads, ye sorrowing ones,
And be ye glad of heart.
For Calvary and Easter Day,
Earth's saddest day and gladdest day.
Were just one day apart!
With shudder of despair and loss
The world's deep heart was wrung.
As lifted high upon his cross
The Lord of Glory hung,
When rocks were rent, ghostly forms
Stole forth in street and mart ;
But Calvary and Easter day.
Earth's blackest day and whitest day,
Were just one day apart !
No hint or whisper stirred the air
To tell what joy should be;
The sad disciples, grieving there.
Nor help nor hope could see.
Yet all the while the glad, near sun
Made ready its swift dart,
And Calvary and Easter Day,
The darkest day and brightest day,
Were just one day apart !
Oh, when the strife of tongues is loud,
And the heart of hope beats low.
When the prophets prophesy of ill.
And the mourners come and go,
In this sure thought let us abide.
And keep and stay our heart —
That Calvary and Easter Day
Earth's heaviest day and happiest day.
Were but one day apart !
Craft Old-Fashioned Lantern Silhouettes
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| Crayon flames glow behind silhouettes of antique lanterns cut from black construction paper. |
Step-by-Step Directions:
- Cut strips of construction paper 1/2" wide and 5-6 inches long. Loop these inside one another using either white glue or a stapler to tack the ends of each loop shut. Make the paper chain long enough to drape onto a cabinet or to hand across a window.
- Decide what size you want your lanterns to be. Cut out the proper length and width of a black construction paper rectangle.
- Fold this rectangle in half lengthwise.
- Use a pencil or white crayon to draw your lantern's design, either the left or right side only if you want the pattern to have equal window designs on both sides of the lantern.
- Then cut the window design and the outer shape of the lantern out on one half of the pattern.
- Unfold the lantern to reveal a pattern that has a symmetrical design.
- If you want a lantern with an asymmetrical design you will need to draw a silhouette directly on top of a unfolded, rectangular paper to cut away every negative shape slowly and carefully.
- Color the faux flames of your lantern on bright white paper and glue these paper fires to the backside of your paper lanterns to make these look as though they are lit.
- Cut an additional construction paper loop to attach the lanterns to your paper chain.
- Now you can hang up some vintage looking lamps to decorate for Fall or Halloween.
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| Above are the silhouette patterns I cut from black construction paper. |
The Snow Storm
The Snow-Storm
by Anne M. Cooper
It is fun to sit in the window-seat,
When all outdoors is snow and sleet,
For everywhere I look I see
Things that are n't what they seem to be.
The fence-posts, each with a cap of snow,
Look like soldiers all in a row;
While just over there, the kitchen pump
Looks like a rabbit about to jump.
Down by the gate, that tall white ghost
Is really only the hitching-post;
While under the tree, that polar bear
Is only our rustic chair.
A handy little frog craft...
If you are working with students younger than five or six, the craft may be easier to accomplish with green paint and a hand print. But, as you students age, it is more of a challenge for them to trace around his or her hand and cut the shape out with scissors.
Cut three circle shapes for the eye balls: two from green paper and one from yellow. Then cut the yellow circle in half and glue the two halves to the lower halves of the green circles. This will make your green frog friend look sleepy...
Cut a larger green oval from construction paper for the frogs mouth. Use a green crayon to make the lips look puffy! Then cut a long red tongue from paper and curl it around your crayon. Uncurl it and glue one tip between the frog's puffy lips.
Now you can choose to mount this silly looking frog to a bulletin board, or a paper pond scene.
Seal Lullaby by Rudyard Kipling
Seal Lullaby
by Rudyard Kipling
Oh! hush thee, my baby, the night is behind
us,
And black are the waters that sparkled so
green.
The moon, o'er the combers, looks down-
ward to find us
At rest in the hollows that rustle between.
Where billow meets billow, there soft be thy
pillow;
Ah, weary wee flipperling, curl at thy
ease!
The storm shall not wake thee, nor shark
overtake thee,
Asleep in the arms of the slow-swinging
seas.
The Snowman's Resolution
The Snowman's Resolution
by Aileen Fisher
The snowman's hat was crooked
And his nose was out of place
And several of his whiskers
Had fallen from his face.
But the snowman didn't notice
For he was trying to think
Of a New Year's resolution
That wouldn't melt or shrink.
He thought and planned and pondered
With his little snow-ball head
Till his eyes began to glisten
And his toes began to spread;
And at last he said, "I've got it-
I'll make a firm resolve
That no matter what the weather
My smile will not dissolve."
Now the snowman acted wisely
And his resolution won
For his splinter smile was wooden
And it didn't mind the sun!
Snowdrops by Laurence Alma-Tadema
Monday, December 13, 2021
Songs of The Seasons
Songs of the Seasons.
Meta E. B. Thorne.
[For Four Students.]
SPRING.
The king of the day is exerting his power,
And night and cold at his bidding depart;
All nature in this resurrection hour
Will welcome my advent with joyous heart.
Then hasten, my children! Ho, March winds wild,
O'er mountain and valley, blow, madly blow!
Proclaim the glad coming of springtime mild,
And speed the departure of frost and snow!
Ye clouds of April, drop down your showers,
And fill to the brim the rivers and rills
"With liquid laughter; May's delicate flowers
Await your dripping 'mong valleys and hills.
SUMMER.
Spring scattered the seed with a lavish hand,
Her whispering breezes and magic showers
Awoke into life; see the serried ranks stand
Of fervid July's lush grasses and flowers.
Then August comes with her sultry noons
Whose hot breath gildeth the ripening grain,
And the glorious light of her harvest moons;
Now the reaper sings as he sweeps the plain:
" My gleaming scythe I swing to and fro;
Before it is falling the golden wheat -
A precious store for the time of the snow;
All praise to the Giver of mercies so sweet!"
AUTUMN.
The plentiful harvest is garnered in;
But I bring September's bounteous store
Of glowing fruitage, all hearts to win;
Now the summer's brilliant reign is o'er.
Now, royal October the scepter wields,
In whose wealth of rosy and mellow light
Seem glorified even the bare brown fields,
With their delicate veil of haze bedight.
And e'en when November, dark and chill,
In her cloud-robe somber broods o'er the earth,
When the birds are hushed 'mid woodland and hill,
And the flowers are asleep till the spring's glad birth,
There are blossoms still for the trustful heart,
Sweet hopes for what life may yet unfold,
And memories precious that will not depart
When fades from the hill-tops the autumn's gold.
WINTER.
I bring to the waiting fields the snow,
December's mantle so soft and pure,
That covers the sleeping seeds below,
To remain, till the spring's return, secure.
Ye think my touch unkind and rude
When the bracing frost and cold I bring,
Ye chant in a pining, reproachful mood
The praises of summer and dewy spring;
Yet oft at my touch the baleful seeds
Of pestilence powerless fall in death;
New vigor to youth and prime proceeds
From my clear, keen, purifying breath.
Bnt richer delights to you I bring;
For mine is the anniversary time,
When " Good-will to men!" the angels sing,
" Good-will!" the echoing joy-bells chime.
The Old Folks in The New School-House
The Old Folks in the New School-house.
Things ain't now as they used to be
A hundred years ago,
When schools were kept in private rooms
Above stairs or below;
When sturdy boys and rosy girls
Romped through the drifted snow,
And spelled t^ir duty and their " abs,"
A hundred years ago.
Those old school-rooms were dark and cold
When winter's sun ran low;
But darker was the master's frown,
A hundred years ago;
And high hung up the birchen rod,
That all the school might see,
Which taught the boys obedience
As well as Rule of Three.
Though 'twas but little that they learned,
A hundred years ago,
Yet what they got they ne'er let slip, -
'Twas well whipped in, you know.
But now the times are greatly changed,
The rod has had its day,
The boys are won by gentle words,
And girls by love obey.
The school-house now a palace is,
And scholars, kings and queens;
They master Algebra and Greek
Before they reach their teens.
Where once was crying, music sweet
Her soothing influence sheds;
Ferules are used for beating time,
And not for beating heads.
Yes, learning was a ragged boy,
A hundred years ago;
With six weeks schooling in a year,
What could the urchin do?
But now he is a full-grown man,
And boasts attainments rare;
He's got his silver slippers on,
And running everywhere.
Some Old School-Books
Some Old School-books.
I have been back to my home again.
To the place where I was born;
I have heard the wind from the stormy main
Go rustling through the corn;
I have seen the purple hills once more;
I have stood on the rocky coast
Where the waves storm inland to the shore;
But the thing that touched me most
Was a little leather strap that kept
Some school-books, tattered and torn!
I sighed, I smiled, I could have wept
When I came on them one morn;
For I thought of the merry little lad,
In the mornings sweet and cool,
If weather was good, or weather bad,
Going whistling off to school.
My fingers undid the strap again,
And I thought how my hand had changed,
And half in longing, and half in pain,
Backward my memory ranged.
There was the grammar I knew so well, -
I didn't remember a rule;
And the old blue speller, - I used to spell
Better than any in school;
And the wonderful geography
I've read on the green hill-side,
When I've told myself I'd surely see
All lands in the world so wide,
From the Indian homes in the far, far West,
To the mystical Cathay.
I have seen them all. But Home is best
When the evening shades fall gray.
And there was the old arithmetic,
All tattered and stained with tears;
I and Jamie and little Dick
Were together in by-gone years.
Jamie has gone to the better land;
And I get now and again,
A letter in Dick's bold, ready hand,
From some great Western plain.
There wasn't a book, and scarce a page,
That hadn't some memory
Of days that seemed like a golden age,
Of friends I shall no more see.
And so I picked up the books again
And buckled the strap once more,
And brought them over the tossing main;
Come, children, and look them o'er.
And there they lie on a little stand
Not far from the Holy Book;
And his boys and girls with loving care
O'er grammar and speller look.
He said, " They speak to me, children dear,
Of a past without alloy;
And the look of Books, in promise clear,
Of a future full of joy."
For Grandma
FOR GRANDMA
Grandma's hair is turning white;
Once 'twas long and brown and bright;
But gray hair is sweet and right
For grandma.
Grandma's eyes are getting dim;
Give the light another trim,
Bring her glasses, read the hymn.
For grandma.
Whisper trials in her ear,
She has always time to hear;
Words of wisdom and of cheer
For grandma.
Tell her things that make you glad;
Maybe she is feeling sad;
Lonesome hours are always bad
For grandma.
by Harriet D. Castle.
Grandpa
GRANDPA
My grandpa says that he was once
A little boy like me.
I s'pose he was; and yet it does
Seem queer to think that he
Could ever get my jacket on,
Or shoes, or like to play
With games and toys, and race with Duke,
As I do every day.
He's come to visit us, you see.
Nurse says I must be good
And mind my manners, as a child
With such a grandpa should.
For grandpapa is straight and tall,
And very dignified;
He knows most all there is to know.
And other things beside.
So though my grandpa knows so much,
I thought that maybe boys
Were things he hadn't studied,
They make such awful noise.
But when I asked at dinner for
Another piece of pie,
I thought I saw a twinkle in
The corner of his eye.
So yesterday when they went out
And left us two alone,
I was not quite so much surprised
To find how nice he'd grown.
You should have seen us romp and run!
My! now I almost see
That p'r'aps he was, long, long ago,
A little boy like me.
by Gertrude Morton Cannon.
Saturday, December 11, 2021
Gifts For The King
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| Wise Men Seek The King from christianclipartreview.blogspot.com |
GIFTS FOR THE KING
The wise may bring their learning;
The rich may bring their wealth;
And some may bring their greatness;
And some bring strength and health.
We, too, would bring our treasures,
To offer to the King;
We have no wealth nor learning;
What shall we children bring ?
We'll bring Him hearts that love Him;
We'll bring Him thankful praise;
And young souls meekly striving
To walk in holy ways;
And these shall be the treasures
We offer to the King;
And these are gifts that even
The poorest child may bring.
Shoe Or Stocking?
SHOE OR STOCKING?
Edith M. Thomas
In Holland, children set their shoes,
This night, outside the door;
These wooden shoes Knecht Clobes sees,
And fills them from his store.
But here we hang our stockings up
On handy hook, or nail;
And Santa Claus, when all is still,
Will plump them, without fail.
Speak out! you "Sobersides." speak out!
And let us hear your views;
Between a stocking and a shoe,
What do you see to choose?
One instant pauses Sobersides,
A little sigh to fetch-
"Well, seems to me, a stocking's best,
For wooden shoes won't stretch!"
A Christmas Wish for Children Everywhere
A CHRISTMAS WISH FOR CHILDREN EVERYWHERE
I'd like a stocking made for a giant,
And a meeting-house full of toys;
Then I'd go out in a happy hunt
For poor little girls and boys;
Up the street and down the street,
And across and over the town,
I'd search and find them every one,
Before the sun went down.
One would want a little jack-knife,
Sharp enough to cut;
One would long for a doll with hair,
And eyes that open and shut;
One would ask for a china set,
With dishes all to her mind;
One would wish a Noah's ark,
With beasts of every kind.
Some would like a doll's cook-stove,
And a little toy wash-tub;
Some would prefer a little drum
For a noisy rub-a-dub-dub;
Some would wish for a story-book,
And some for a set of blocks;
Some would be wild with happiness,
Over a nice tool-box.
And some would rather have little shoes,
And other things warm to wear;
For many children are very poor,
And the winter is hard to bear;
I'd buy soft flannels for little frocks,
And a thousand stockings or so;
And the jolliest little coats and cloaks,
To keep out the frost and snow.
The Christmas Peace
THE CHRISTMAS PEACE
Teresa Beatrice O'Hara
Because a little Child was born
The earth is filled with peace;
Old wrongs, old sorrows are forgot
In suffering's sweet surcease.
Oh, men that strain for empty gain;
Oh, hearts with hatreds torn;
There is no room for strife to-day;
A little Child is born!
A Christmas Wish!
A CHRISTMAS WISH
A happy, happy Christmas
Be yours to-day!
Oh, not the failing measure
Of fleeting earthly pleasure,
But Christmas joy abiding,
While years are swiftly gliding,
Be yours, I pray,
Through Him who gave us Christmas Day!
Sing A Song of Christmas
SING A SONG OF CHRISTMAS
Edith Virginia Bradt
Sing a song of Christmas,
Gladdest day of all;
O'er the hills and valleys
See the splendor fall.
Sing of gleaming holly;
Sing of mistletoe;
Sing a song of Christmas
Everywhere you go.
Sing a song of Christmas,
Holy, happy day;
Sing of Bethlehem's manger,
Where the Christ-Child lay.
Sing of love unbounded-
"Peace, goodwill to men."
Sing a song of Christmas
O'er and O'er again.
Sing a song of Christmas;
E'en on this glad day
There are griefs and heartaches
All along the way-
Hearts that wait the uplift
Of your note of cheer;
Sing a song of Christmas,
Strong and sweet and clear.
Friday, December 10, 2021
If You're Good
IF YOU'RE GOOD
Santa Claus will come to-night,
If you're good,
And do what you know is right,
As you should.
Down the chimney he will creep,
Bringing you a woolly sheep,
And a doll that goes to sleep,
If you're good.
Santa Claus will drive his sleigh
Through the wood,
But he'll come around this way,
If you're good,
With a wind-up bird that sings,
And a puzzle made of rings;
He will bring you cars that go,
If you're good
Jumping-jacks and funny things,
If you're good,
And a rocking-horse, Oh, oh!
If you're good.
And a dolly that can sneeze;
That says "Mamma!" when you squeeze;
He'll bring you one of these,
If you're good.
Santa grieves when you are bad.
As he should;
But it makes him very glad
When you're good;
He is wise and he's a dear;
Just do right and never fear;
He'll remember you each year,
If you're good.
Around The Christmas Lamp
AROUND THE CHRISTMAS LAMP
by J. L. Molloy
The wind may shout as it likes without;
It may rage, but cannot harm us;
For a merrier din shall resound within,
And our Christmas cheer will warm us.
There is gladness to all at its ancient call,
While its ruddy fires are gleaming,
And from far and near, o'er landscape drear.
The Christmas light is streaming.
A Christmas Gift
A CHRISTMAS GIFT
by Susie M. Best
A Christmas tree for you I've brought,
On every branch you'll see
A loving wish, a kindly thought,
A prayer that you may be
As happy as the birds of May
Upon this gracious Christmas Day.