Page:Our American Holidays - Christmas.djvu/208

 180  And its soul full of music bursts forth on the air, When the song of the angels is sung

It is coming, Old Earth, it is coming to-night! On the snowflakes which cover thy sod The feet of the Christ-child fall gentle and white, And the voice of the Christ-child tells out with delight That mankind are the children of God.

On the sad and the lonely, the wretched and poor, The voice of the Christ-child shall fall; And to every blind wanderer open the door Of hope that he dared not to dream of before, With a sunshine of welcome for all.

The feet of the humblest may walk in the field Where the feet of the Holiest trod, This, then, is the marvel to mortals revealed When the silvery trumpets of Christmas have pealed That mankind are the children of God. 



WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY

The play is done — the curtain drops, Slow-falling to the prompter's bell: 