DECEMBER SIXTEENTH

No rosebuds yet, by dawn impearled

Match, even in loveliest lands,

The sweetest flowers in all the world;

A baby's hands.

Swinburne

DECEMBER SEVENTEENTH

Sweet was the whole year with the stir

Of young feet on the stair.

Lizette Woodworth Reese

DECEMBER EIGHTEENTH

The religion of a child depends on what its father

and mother are, and not on what they say.

Amiel

DECEMBER NINETEENTH

So was unfolded here, the

Christian lore of salvation,

Line by line, from the soul of childhood.

Longfellow

DECEMBER TWENTIETH

It is good to be children sometimes, and never

better than at Christmas, when its mighty founder

was himself a child.

Charles Dickens