row.

We hope the sermon is full of Christ-all about Christ! No doubt it is. It ought to be.

There has been joy enough for one Christmas-eve. The hour is growing late. The candles are beginning to burn low. The happy family retires; but it would be difficult to say whether they rest in sleep, or rest in bliss. "What a magic night! What tumult of dreaming hopes! The populous, motley, glittering cave of fancy opens itself in the length of the night, and in the exhaustion of dreaming effort, still darker and darker, fuller and more grotesque; but the waking gives back to the thirsty heart its hopes. All accidental tones, the cries of animals, of watchmen, are for the timidly devout fancy, sounds out of Heaven; singing voices of angels in the air; church-music of the morning worship!" There are faintly heard, in dreams, the hymnings of higher hosts, even as they once undulated over Bethlehem's plains. O, how the mild Jesus, in form as an infant, floats in the half-awake night visions of those in whose hearts echoes the jubilate of Christmas joy.

In the morning come anew the greetings of joy and love: "Happy Christmas!" The gifts are now designated; and each one learns what gift is his. But it is agreed by all, that the Christmas-tree shall not be plucked of its fruits. It must hold the gifts of love together till the festival of Christmas is over. So shall the hearts of the family hang together in one bright, rich, beautiful cluster of love.

And now it remains for grandfather to explain to the children the meaning of this Christmas-tree. Which he gladly does thus: "This tree is in a dark room. So Jesus came into a dark world with his riches and gifts. It was made in the evening. So Jesus was born in the evening. It is an evergreen-tree. So the kingdom of grace which Jesus established in our hearts, and in the world, is always fresh and flourishing. The gifts which hang on it are to remind us of the many blessings which we receive from Christ's grace in the world. That there are presents on it for all, is to show us that He has good things for all; for children as well as for those who are grown. The burning tapers are to teach us that Jesus brought light into the world. If it were not for these lights in the dark room the gifts on the tree could not be seen. So Jesus enlightens our hearts that we may see the gifts which he has brought us. The children do not see the tree till after it has all been prepared for them. So Jesus and their kind parents do much for them while they are yet too small to know it; but if they trust in Him and their Christian parents and friends, they will afterwards learn with great joy how well they were cared for though they knew it not. They are not at once made acquainted with their own presents, to teach them that in Christ's kingdom, and in a christian family, all ought to rejoice in common blessings, and enjoy the sight of all, as much as the sight of their own.. When gathering round the Christmastree they must not desire to say selfishly, this is mine; but they must learn to say, in the spirit of mutual love, all this is OURS!"

The children all gave signs of joy at what they heard. New ideas, as well as new joys, spring up in their hearts at every word. It is believed that they will never forget grand-pa's visit, nor the Christmastree, nor the good Saviour, of whom he told them so much that was new to them, nor the happy, happy, happy Christmas time!

On Christmas evening, just before they went to bed, the venerable old man, who was so full of his theme that he could hardly stop, yet sung for the children, with trembling voice, the following simple Christmas verses, that are said to come from the middle ages. "Though simple," the old man said, "yet they have much more of the true life of Jesus in them, than thousands that are more modern:

"Honor the leaves and the leaves of life,

Upon this blest holiday,

When Jesus asked his mother dear,
Whether he might go to play.

To play to play! said blessed Mary,
To play, then get you gone;
And see there be no complaint of you
At night when you come home.

Sweet Jesus, he ran unto yonder town,

As far as the holy well;

And there he saw three as fine children

As ever eyes beheld.

He said, 'God bless you every one,

And sweet may your sleep be;

And now, little children, I'll play with you,

And you shall play with me.'

'Nay, nay, we are lords' and ladies' sons-
Thou art meaner than us all;

Thou art but a silly fair maid's child,
Born in an oxen's stall.'

Sweet Jesus he turned himself about,

Neither laughed, nor smiled, nor spoke,

But the tears trickled down from his pretty little eyes,
Like waters from the rock.

Sweet Jesus he ran to his mother dear,

As fast as he could run

O mother, I saw three as fine children

As ever were eyes set on.

I said, 'God bless you every one,

And sweet may your sleep be

And now, little children, I'll play with you,

And you shall play with me."

'Nay,' said they, we're lords' and ladies' sons,

Thou art meaner than us all;

For thou art but a poor fair maid's child,

Born in an oxen's stall.'

Then the tears trickled down from his pretty little eyes

As fast as they could fall.

'Then,' said she, 'go down to yonder town,

As far as the holy well,

And there take up those infants' souls,

And dip them deep in hell.'

'O no! O no!' sweet Jesus said,
"O no! that never can be ;

For there are many of those infants' souls
Crying out for the help of me!"

THE POOR CHILD'S CHRISTMAS-TREE.

FROM THE GERMAN OF RUECKERT.

BY THE EDITOR.

-A STRANGER child, on Christmas eve is walking through the town. It looks at the lights that are burning so beautifully along the streets. Before every house it stands still, and gazes into the brilliantly illumined rooms. Those within look out. It sees the Christmas-trees within hung full of bright wax candles. A deep sadness comes over its heart.

"Every child this evening has a and this gives it joy: only I am

The child weeps, and says to itself: Christmas-tree, and a candle on it; poor and have none. When I was at home, where I sat at Christmas eve with my sister's hand in mine, I also had a tree, and a candle that burnt brightly for me; but here I am forgotten, and wander lonely in this strange land. Alas! will no one invite me in, and give me a spot in the circle of this Christmas joy? In all this row of houses is there no little bright corner for me, be it ever so small?

Alas! will no one call me in? I do not wish any gift for myself. I will only sit alone and look at the Christmas gifts of these strange children; and I will be happy while I look."

It knocks at gate and door, at window and shutter; but no one comes to call in the stranger child. Those within have no ear for its knocking.

Every father bestows all his attention on his own children. Each mother gives gifts to her own loved ones, and thinks of nothing more nor less. No one cares for the poor, little stranger child without. "O, lovely, holy Christ! Neither mother nor father have I-if thou be not such to me. O, be thou my consoler, because all others forget me!" The little child rubs its hands: they are stiff with the cold. The cold creeps into its garments. It stands still in the street, and looks away

into the distance.

There comes toward it, wandering along the street, slow and gently, another child. It is clothed in white garments, and bears a light in its hand. How lovely are the tones of its voice, as it says:

"I am the holy Christ! I was also once a little child such as you are. I will not forget you, though all others do.

I am with all alike through my word. I give my protection and care, as well here on the street, as yonder in the brilliant rooms.

Stranger child! I will make your Christmas-tree glitter here in this open space. It shall be so beautiful that those in the houses shall not excel it."

Now CHRIST-KINDLEIN pointed up to heaven! And there stood a Christmas-tree with many branches, all glittering as if hung full of beautiful stars.

So far off and yet so near! How the bright tapers sparkled. O, how the stranger child's heart grew quiet, when it saw its beautiful Christmas-tree.

It was as a dream! Angels bending down from the tree to the child drew it up to them, and to the bright regions where its Christmas

tree was.

The stranger child has now gone home! It lives with its holy Christ. It now longs no more for the gifts that on earth are hung for rich children upon the Christmas-tree.

IF you're waking, call me early, call me early, mother dear,
For I would see the sun rise upon the glad New Year;

It is the last New Year that I shall ever see,

Then ye may lay me low in the mold, and think no more o' me.

To-night I saw the sun set; he set and left behind
The good old year, the dear old time, and all my peace of mind;
And the New Year's coming up, mother, but I shall never see
The May upon the blackthorn, the leaf upon the tree.

Last May we made a crown of flowers; we had a merry day!
Beneath the hawthorn on the green they made the Queen o' May;
And we danced about the May-pole, and in the hazel-copse,
Till Charles'-wain came out above the tall, white chimney-tops.

There's not a flower on the hills; the frost is on the pane;

I only wish to live till the snowdrops come again;

I wish the snow would melt, and the sun come out on high;

I long to see a flower so, before the day I die.

The building rook 'll caw from the tall elm-tree,

And the tufted plover pipe along the fallow lea;

And the swallow 'll come back again with summer o'er the wave,
But I shall lie alone, mother, within the moldering grave.

Upon the chancel-casement and upon that grave of mine,
In the early, early morning, the summer sun 'll shine,
Before the red cock crows from the farm upon the hill,
When you are warm asleep, mother, and all the world is still,

A constellation in the heavens.

When the flowers come again, mother, beneath the waving light,
Ye 'll never see me more, in the long, gray fields at night;
When from the dry dark wold the summer airs blow cool
On the oat-grass and the sword-grass and bulrush in the pool.

Ye 'll bury me, my mother, just beneath the hawthorn shade,
And ye 'll come sometimes and see where I am lowly laid;
I shall not forget you, mother, I shall hear you when you pass,
With your feet above my head, in the long and pleasant grass.
I have been wild and wayward, but ye 'll forgive me now;
Ye 'll kiss me, my own mother, upon my cheek and brow;
Nay, nay, ye must not weep, nor let your grief be wild,
Ye shall not fret for me, mother, ye have another child.

If I can I 'll come again, mother, from out my resting-place;
Though ye 'll not see me, mother, I shall look upon your face;
Though I cannot speak a word, I shall hearken what ye say,
And be often and often with you, when ye think I 'm far away.

Good night, good night, when I have said good night for evermore,
And ye see me carried out from the threshold of the door,
Don't let Effie come to see me till my grave be growing green;
She'll be a better child to you than I have ever been.

She 'll find my garden-tools upon the granary floor;
Let her take 'em; they are hers; I shall never garden more;
But tell her, when I 'm gone, to train the rosebush that I set
About the parlor window, and the box of mignonette.

Good night, sweet mother! call me when it begins to dawn;
All night I lie awake, but I fall asleep at morn;
But I would see the sun rise upon the glad New Year,
So, if you 're waking, call me, call me early, mother dear.