The stars had faded and an early morning wind was blowing chill when at last the shepherds made their way out of the stable. The lamp, still swinging, burned pale in the dawn, but its faint light fell across the white face of a little boy who lurked in the doorway and whose cold hand clutched old Eli as he came exulting forth.
"Praise God! Praise God for His mercy, justice, and truth! Praise—"
Old Eli started at the cold touch, and looked down with eyes that glowed with an inward light.
"Child, what doest thou here? Hinder me not. I go now to spread the good tidings—to praise and to glorify God."
Ezra opened his dry lips.
"Hast found Him?" he asked. "Is it the Messiah? Is it the Christ?"
"Aye, child, 'tis as the angel said," answered Eli happily; "a babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger. Come to bring peace on earth, our Saviour who is Christ the Lord, our long-looked-for Messiah! Glory to God in the highest! Glory!"
Ezra heard no more. He had turned, and with the speed of an arrow from its bow was running up the steep road toward home.