Open Your Doors to the Savior

A Psalm Attributed to David:

“Lift up your heads, O ye gates; even lift them up, ye everlasting doors; and the King of glory shall come in. “Who is this King of glory? The LORD of hosts, he is the King of glory.” (Psalm 24:9–10)

Carol: “While Shepherds Watched Their Flocks by Night”

While shepherds watch’d their flocks by night,

All seated on the ground,

The angel of the Lord came down,

And glory shone around.

“Fear not,” said he, for mighty dread

Had seized their troubled mind;

“Glad tidings of great joy I bring

To you and all mankind.”

“To you, in David’s town this day,

Is born of David’s line

The Savior who is Christ the Lord,

And this shall be the sign:

The heav’nly Babe you there shall find

To human view displayed,

All meanly wrapped in swathing bands,

And in a manger laid.”

Thus spake the seraph, and forthwith

Appeared a shining throng

Of angels praising God who thus

Addressed their joyful song:

“All glory be to God on high

And on the earth be peace.

Goodwill henceforth from heav’n to men

Begin and never cease.”

The Cobbler and His Guest

A Yuletide Legend Retold by Anne M. Boyles

There once lived in the city of Marseilles an old shoemaker, loved and honored by his neighbors, who affectionately called him “Father Martin”.  One Christmas Eve, as he sat alone in his little shop reading of the visit of the Wise Men to the infant Jesus, and of the gifts they brought, he said to himself. “If tomorrow were the first Christmas, and if Jesus were to be born in Marseilles this night, I know what I would give Him!”

He rose from his stool and took from a shelf overhead two tiny shoes of softest snow- white

leather, with bright silver buckles. “I would give Him those, my finest work.”

Replacing the shoes, he blew out the candle and retired to rest. Hardly had he closed his eyes, it seemed, when he heard a voice call his name, “Martin! Martin!”

Intuitively he felt a presence. Then the voice spoke again, “Martin, you have wished to see Me.  Tomorrow I shall pass by your window. If you see Me, and bid Me enter, I shall be your guest at your table.”

Father Martin did not sleep that night for joy. And before it was yet dawn he rose and swept and tidied up his little shop. He spread fresh sand upon the floor, and wreathed green boughs of fir along the rafters. On the spotless linen-covered table he placed a loaf of white bread, a jar of honey, and a pitcher of milk, and over the fire he hung a pot of tea Then he took up his patient vigil at the window.

Presently he saw an old street-sweeper pass by, blowing upon his thin, gnarled hands to warm them. “Poor fellow, he must be half frozen,” thought Martin. Opening the door he called out to him, “Come in, my friend, and warm, and drink a cup of hot tea.” And the man gratefully accepted the invitation.

An hour passed, and Martin saw a young, miserably clothed women carrying a baby. She paused wearily to rest in the shelter of his doorway. The heart of the old cobbler was touched. Quickly he flung open the door.

“Come in and warm while you rest,” he said to her. “You do not look well,” he remarked.

“I am going to the hospital. I hope they will take me in, and my baby boy,” she explained. “My husband is at sea, and I am ill, without a soul.”

“Poor child!” cried Father Martin. “You must eat something while you are getting warm. No,

Then let me give a cup of milk to the little one. Ah! What a bright, pretty fellow he is! Why, you have put no shoes on him!”

“I have no shoes for him,” sighed the mother sadly.

“Then he shall have this lovely pair I finished yesterday.” And Father Martin took down from the shelf the soft little snow-white shoes he had admired the evening before. He slipped them on the child’s feet...they fit perfectly. And shortly the poor young mother left, two shoes in her hand and tearful with gratitude.

And Father Martin resumed his post at the window. Hour after hour went by, and although many people passed his window, and many needy souls shared his hospitality, the expected Guest did not appear.

“It was only a dream,” he sighed, with a heavy heart. “I did not believe; but he has not come.”

Suddenly, so it seemed to his weary eyes, the room was flooded with a strange light. And to the cobbler’s astonished vision there appeared before him, one by one, the poor street-sweeper, the sick mother and her child, and all the people whom he had aided during the day. And each smiled at him and said. “Have you not seen me? Did I not sit at your table?” Then they vanished.

At last, out of the silence, Father Martin heard again the gentle voice repeating the old familiar words. “Whosoever shall receive one such in My name, receiveth Me...for I was an hungered, and ye gave Me meat; I was athirst, and ye gave Me drink; I was a stranger, and ye took Me in...verily I say unto you, inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these, ye have done it unto Me.”