“Oh, where,” cried the little stranger child, “where is my candles’ light? And why is there no tree for me, nor pretty toys? Once in my house my dear mother decked my tree! Oh, little children, may I not come in to see your tree and play with you?”
Then with frail hand the stranger child knocked on the window and the door, but no one heard the sound. Then down in the cold, white snow the little one sat, and wept.
“O Christ Child, the children’s Friend, I have no one to love me! Oh, why hast thou forgotten to send me a little tree with lights on every bough?”
And the little stranger child, with cold hands, drew its white cloak closer around its silken hair and pretty eyes so clear and blue.
Then came another pilgrim child. He held in His hand a shining light, and in a sweet, mild voice, like gentle music, he soothed the little stranger child.
“I am the Christmas Friend. Once I was a little child. Just now I heard your pleadings, and have come to deck a tree for you more beautiful than any tree ever before seen. Here in the open air is your Christmas tree, my little flower.” And the little stranger child looked up—far up—into the deep, deep sky, and saw there a glorious tree. Stars hung among its branches, and angels sang songs of joy around it.
And the little child smiled with joy, and troops of radiant beings descended and lifted the little one in their arms. They bore him to the Christ Child’s house, which is sweeter far than any home that earth can give.
THE STAR SONG
ROBERT HERRICK
I
Tell us, thou clear and heavenly tongue,
Where is the Babe that lately sprung?
Lies he the lily banks among?