Good Will to Men

The Words of Malachi:

“Behold, I will send my messenger, and he shall prepare the way before me: and the Lord, whom ye seek, shall suddenly come to his temple, even the messenger of the covenant, whom ye delight in: behold, he shall come, saith the LORD of hosts.” (Malachi 3:1)

Carol: “I Heard the Bells”

I heard the bells on Christmas day

Their old familiar carols play,

And wild and sweet the words repeat

Of peace on earth, good will to men.

I thought how, as the day had come,

The belfries of all Christendom

Had rolled along th’un broken song

Of peace on earth, good will to men.

And in despair I bowed my head:

“There is no peace on earth,” I said,

“For hate is strong and mocks the song

Of peace on earth, good will to men.”

Then pealed the bells more loud and deep:

“God is not dead, nor doth he sleep;

The wrong shall fail, the right prevail,

With peace on earth, good will to men.”

Till, ringing, singing, on its way,

The world revolved from night to day,

A voice, a chime, a chant sublime,

Of peace on earth, good will to men!

Special Delivery

By Mrs. Charles Stephan

Delivery boys come in all shapes and sizes — and in a variety of speeds and attitudes, too. Some come to the door like beleaguered deliverers of doom while others come on the bound, as though there were more rewards to work than the pay.

David Ward, of Memphis, Tennessee, is the latter kind. Weekdays after school and Saturdays, David pedals his bike for the Speedway Drug Store. And David’s a good sort for the job. When he delivers a prescription and says, “I hope you’re feeling better,” in that polite, concerned way of his, somehow you do feel better.

Last year on a Saturday night before Christmas, David, who was thirteen then, received his weekly salary as usual. But he didn’t go home. He had a special delivery of his own to make.

First he went down to the lot where the Christmas trees were being sold. When he’d given a number of the trees his careful inspection, he bought one and loaded it on his bicycle. Then he wheeled it over to 605 Life-Street, the home of a steady customer, Mrs. Brady Neals. She was seventy-one. And she had been blind for thirty-seven years.

“It’s me, Mrs. Neals, David from Speedway,” he said when she came to the door. And then David walked in and set up the tree and talked cheerily as he trimmed it with the lights and decorations he had brought along.

Mrs. Neals could hardly speak. Even as David was leaving she could only mumble her thanks.  But the old lady was thrilled, she kept reaching out to touch the tree’s branches and to breathe its forest-fresh fragrance.

“I’m seventy-one years old,” she kept saying over and over, “I’m seventy-one years old and I’ve never had a tree.”

Delivery boys come in all shapes and sizes and some of them bring more to their jobs than work.