A Pattern of Love

The Words of Jacob, the Son of Lehi, to the People at the Temple in the Land of Nephi:

“For, for this intent have we written these things, that they may know that we knew of Christ, and we had a hope of his glory many hundred years before his coming; and not only we ourselves had a hope of his glory, but also all the holy prophets which were before us. 

"Behold, they believed in Christ and worshiped the Father in his name, and also we worship the Father in his name. . .” (Jacob 4:4–5a)

Carol: “Bring a Torch Jeanette Isabella”

Bring a torch, Jeanette, Isabella

Bring a torch, to the cradle run!

It is Jesus, good folk of the village;

Christ is born and Mary’s calling;

Ah! ah! beautiful is the Mother

Ah! ah! beautiful is her Son!

It is wrong when the Child is sleeping

It is wrong to talk so loud;

Silence, all, as you gather around.

Lest your noise should waken Jesus.

Hush! hush! see how fast He slumbers!

Hush! hush! see how fast He sleeps!

Hasten now, good folk of the village;

Hasten now the Christ Child to see.

You will find Him asleep in the manger;

Quietly come and whisper softly,

Hush! hush! Peacefully now He slumbers.

Hush! hush! Peacefully now He sleeps.

Softly to the little stable.

Softly for a moment come;

Look and see how charming is Jesus

How He is white, His cheeks are rosy!

Hush! hush! see how the Child is sleeping;

Hush! hush! see how He smiles in his dreams.

Bring a torch, Jeanette, Isabella;

Bring a torch, come swiftly and run.

Christ is born, tell the folk of the village;

Jesus is sleeping in His cradle.

Ah, ah, beautiful is the Mother;

Ah, ah, beautiful is her Son.

Several authors have commented that the song evokes the tradition of erecting a crèche, or even a small town containing a crèche, to honor the Christ Child. Some have also given inspiration to the creation of the song from a painting by Georges de La Tour (1593 - 1652) in the 17th Century which depicted a Nativity scene where two young girls quietly watch the Infant. No source has specified which painting this is; perhaps it is “Le Nouveau-Né” (a.k.a. “The New Born” or “The Newborn”), circa 1645.

According to both William Simon and Nancy J. Skarmeas, the tune to this carol has been known since the 14th Century—not as a sacred hymn, but as a lively dance. Both state that the carol, with words and music, first appeared in a compilation of Christmas music, Cantiques de Premiere Advenement de Jesus-Christ, published in 1553 by a wealthy French count whose hobby was the collection of Christmas music.

Pattern of Love

by Jack Smith

I didn’t question Timmy, age nine, or his seven year-old brother Billy about the brown wrapping paper they passed back and forth between them as we visited each store.

Every year at Christmas time, our service club takes the children from poor families in our town on a personally conducted shopping tour. I was assigned Timmy and Billy, whose father was out of work. After giving them the allotted $4.00 each, we began our trip. At different stores I made suggestions, but always their answer was a solemn shake of the head, no. Finally I asked, “Where would you suggest we look?”

“Could we go to a shoe store, sir?”answered Timmy. “We’d like a pair of shoes for our Daddy so he can go to work.”

In the shoe store the clerk asked what the boys wanted. Out came the brown paper. “We want a pair of work shoes to fit this foot,” they said.

Billy explained that it was a pattern of their Daddy’s foot. They had drawn it while he was asleep in a chair.

The clerk held the paper against a measuring stick and then walked away. Soon he came back with an open box. “Will these do?” he asked.

Timmy and Billy handled the shoes with great eagerness. “How much do they cost?” asked Billy.

Then Timmy saw the price on the box. “They’re $16.95!” he said in dismay. “We only have $8.00"

I looked at the clerk, and he cleared his throat. “That’s the regular price,” he said, “but they are on sale; $3.98, today only.”

Then with shoes happily in hand the boys bought gifts for their mother and two little sisters. Not once did they think of themselves.

The day after Christmas the boy’s father stopped me on the street. The new shoes were on his feet, gratitude was in his eyes. “I thank the Lord for people who care,” he said.

“And I thank Jesus for your two sons,” I replied. “They taught me more about Christmas in one evening than I had learned in a lifetime.”