The Words of Samuel the Lamanite to the People of Zarahemla:
“And behold, he said unto them: Behold, I give unto you a sign;
for five years more cometh, and behold, then cometh the Son of God to redeem all those who
shall believe on his name.
“And behold, this will I give unto you for a sign at the time of
his coming; for behold, there shall be great lights in heaven, insomuch that in the night before
he cometh there shall be no darkness, insomuch that it shall appear unto man as if it was day.
Therefore, there shall be one day and a night and a day, as if it were one day and there
were no night; and this shall be unto you for a sign; for ye shall know of the rising of the sun
and also of its setting; therefore they shall know of a surety that there shall be two days and a
night; nevertheless the night shall not be darkened; and it shall be the night before he is
born.
“And behold, there shall a new star arise, such an one as ye never
have beheld; and this also shall be a sign unto you. And behold this is not all, there shall
be many signs and wonders in heaven. And it shall come to pass that ye shall all be amazed, and
wonder, insomuch that ye shall fall to the earth. And it shall come to pass that whosoever
shall believe on the Son of God, the same shall have everlasting life.” (Helaman 14:2–8)
Carol: “Stars Were Gleaming”
Stars were gleaming, shepherds dreaming;
And the night was dark and chill.
Angels’ story rang with glory;
Shepherds heard it on the hill.
Ah, that singing! Hear it ringing,
Earthward winging, Christmas bringing!
Hearken! We can hear it still!
See the clearness and the nearness
Of the blessed Christmas star.
Leading, guiding; wise men riding
Through the desert dark and far.
Lovely showing, sharing, growing,
Onward going, gleaming, glowing,
Leading still our Christmas star!
I Knew You Would Come
by Elizabeth King English
Herman and I locked our general store and dragged ourselves home.
It was 11:00p.m., Christmas Eve of 1949. We were dog tired. We had sold almost all of our
toys; and all of the layaways, except one package, had been picked up.
Usually we kept the store open until everything had been claimed.
We wouldn’t have woken up happy on Christmas knowing that some child’s gift was still on the
layaway shelf. But the person who had put a dollar down on that package never returned.
Early Christmas morning we and out twelve-year old son, Tom,
opened gifts. But I’ll tell you, there was something humdrum about this Christmas. Tom was growing
up; I missed his childish exuberance of past years.
As soon as breakfast was over Tom left to visit his friend next
door. Herman mumbled, “I’m going back to sleep. There’s nothing left to stay up for.” So
there I was alone, feeling let down.
And then it began. A strange, persistent urge. It seemed to be
telling me to go to the store. I looked at the sleet and icy sidewalk outside. That’s crazy, I said
to myself. I tried dismissing the urge, but it wouldn’t leave me alone. In fact, it was getting
stronger. Finally, I couldn’t stand it any longer, and I got dressed.
Outside, the wind cut right through me and the sleet stung my
cheeks. I groped my way to the store, slipping and sliding. In front stood two boys, one about
nine, and the other six. What in the world?
“See, I told you she would come!” the older boy said jubilantly.
The younger one’s face was wet with tears, but when he saw me, his sobbing stopped.
“What are you two doing out here?” I scolded, hurrying them into
the store. “You should be at home on a day like this!” They were poorly dressed. They had no
hats or gloves, and their shoes barely held together. I rubbed their icy hands, and got them up
close to the heater.
“We’ve been waiting for you,” replied the older boy. “My little
brother Jimmy didn’t get any Christmas.” He touched Jimmy’s shoulder. “We want to buy some
skates. That’s what he wants. We have these three dollars.” he said, pulling the bills from his
pocket.
I looked at the money. I looked at their expectant faces. and then
I looked around the store. “I’m sorry,” I said, “but we have no--“ Then my eye caught sight of the
layaway shelf with its lone package. “Wait a minute,” I told the boys. I walked over, picked
up the package, unwrapped it and, miracle of miracles, there was a pair of skates!
Jimmy reached for them. Lord, let them be his size. And miracle
added upon miracle, the were his size.
The older boy presented the dollars to me. “No,” I told him, “I
want you to have these skates, and I want you to use your money to get some gloves.” The boys just
blinked at first. Then their eyes became like saucers, and their grins stretched wide when they
understood I was giving them the skates. What I saw in Jimmy’s eyes was a blessing. It was pure
joy, and it was beautiful. My spirits rose.
We walked out together, and as I locked the door, I turned to the
older brother and said, “how did you know I would come?”
I wasn’t prepared for his reply. His gaze was steady, and he
answered me softly. “I asked Jesus to send you.”
The tingles in my spine weren’t from the cold. God had planned
this. As we waved good-bye, I turned home to a brighter Christmas.
“But behold, the Spirit hath said this much unto me, saying: Cry
unto this people, saying—Repent ye, and prepare the way of the Lord, and walk in his
paths, which are straight; for behold, the kingdom of heaven is at hand, and the
Son of God cometh upon the face of the earth.
“And behold, he shall be born of Mary, at Jerusalem which is the
land of our forefathers, she being a virgin, a precious and chosen vessel, who shall be
overshadowed and conceive by the power of the Holy Ghost, and bring forth a son, yea, even the Son
of God.” (Alma 7:9–10)
Carol: “Oh, Hush Thee, My Baby”
Oh, hush thee, my baby; a story I’ll tell
How little Lord Jesus on earth came to dwell;
How in a far country, ‘way over the sea,
Was born a wee baby, my dear one, like thee.
Lullaby, baby, lullaby dear.
Sleep, little baby; have nothing to fear.
Lullaby, baby, lullaby dear.
Jesus will care for his little one here.
The story was told by the angels so bright,
As round them was shining a heavenly light.
The stars shone out brightly, but one led the way
And stood o’er the place where the dear baby lay
The shepherds here found him, as angels had said,
The poor little stranger, no crib for a bed.
Down low in a manger so quiet he lay.
This little child Jesus, asleep on the hay.
Trouble at the Inn
by Dina Donahue
For many years now, whenever Christmas pageants are talked about
in a certain little town in the Mid-west, someone is sure to mention the name of Wallace Purling.
Wally’s performance in one annual production of the nativity play has slipped into the realm
of legend. But the old-timers who were in the audience that night never tire of recalling
exactly what happened.
Wally was nine that year and in the second grade, though he should
have been in the fourth. Most people in town knew that he had difficulty in keeping up. He was
big and clumsy, slow in movement and mind. Still, Wally was well liked by the other
children in his class, all of whom were smaller than he, though the boys had trouble hiding their
irritation when Wally would ask to play ball with them, or any game, for that matter, in which
winning was important.
Most often they’d find a way to keep him out, but Wally would hang
around anyway—not sulking, just hoping. He was always a helpful boy, a willing and
smiling one, and the natural protector of the underdog. Sometimes if the older boys chased the
younger ones away, if would always; be Wally who’d say, “Can’t they stay? They’re no bother.”
Wally fancied the idea of being a shepherd with a flute in the
Christmas pageant that year, but the play’s director. Miss Lumbard, assigned him to a more important
role. After all, she reasoned, the Innkeeper did not have too many lines and Wally’s size would make
his refusal of lodging to Joseph more forceful.
And so it happened that the usual large, partisan audience
gathered for the town’s yearly extravaganza of beards, crowns, halos and a whole stageful of
squeaky voices. No one on stage or off was more caught up in the magic or the night than Wallace
Purling. They said later that he stood in the wings and watched the performance with such
fascination that from time to time Miss Lumbard had to make sure he didn’t wander on stage before his cue.
Then the time came when Joseph appeared, slowly, tenderly guiding
Mary to the door of the inn. Joseph knocked hard on the wooden door set into the painted
backdrop. Wally the innkeeper was there, waiting.
“What do you want?” Wally said, swinging the door open with a
brusque gesture.
“We seek lodging, somewhere to stay.”
“Seek it elsewhere.” Wally looked straight ahead but spoke
vigorously. “The inn is filled.”
“Sir, we have asked everywhere in vain. We have traveled far and
are very weary.”
“There is no room in this inn for you.” Wally looked properly
stern.
“Please, good innkeeper, this is my wife, Mary. She is heavy with
child and needs a place to rest. Surely you must have some small corner for her. She is so tired.”
Now, for the first time the Innkeeper relaxed his still stance and
looked down at Mary. With that, there was a long pause, long enough to make the audience a bit
tense with embarrassment.
“No! Begone!” the prompter whispered from the wings of the stage.
“No!” Wally repeated automatically. “Begone!”
Joseph sadly placed his arm around Mary, and Mary laid her head
upon her husband’s shoulder and the two of them started to move away. The Innkeeper did not
return inside his inn, however.
Wally stood there in the doorway, watching the forlorn couple. His
mouth was open, his brow creased with concern, his eyes filling unmistakably with tears.
And suddenly this Christmas pageant became different from all the others.
“Don’t go, Joseph,” Wally called out. “Bring Mary back.” And
Wallace Purling’s face grew into a bright smile. “You can have my room.”
Some people in town thought that the pageant had been ruined. Yet
there were others—many, many others—who considered it the most Christmas of all Christmas
pageants they had ever seen.
“For behold, the time cometh, and is not far distant, that with
power, the Lord Omnipotent who reigneth, who was, and is from all eternity to all eternity,
shall come down from heaven among the children of men, and shall dwell in a tabernacle of
clay, and shall go forth amongst men, working mighty miracles, such as healing the sick, raising
the dead, causing the lame to walk, the blind to receive their sight, and the deaf to hear, and
curing all manner of diseases.
“And he shall cast out devils, or the evil spirits which dwell in
the hearts of the children of men. And lo, he shall suffer temptations, and pain of body,
hunger, thirst, and fatigue, even more than man can suffer, except it be unto death; for behold,
blood cometh from every pore, so great shall be his anguish for the wickedness and the
abominations of his people.
“And he shall be called Jesus Christ, the Son of God, the Father
of heaven and earth, the Creator of all things from the beginning; and his mother shall be
called Mary.” (Mosiah 3:5–8)
Carol: “O, Come, All Ye Faithful”
Oh, come, all ye faithful, Joyful and triumphant!
Oh, come ye, oh, come ye to Bethlehem.
Come and behold him, Born the King of angels;
Oh, come, let us adore him; Oh, come, let us adore him;
Oh, come, let us adore him, Christ, the Lord.
Sing, choirs of angels, Sing in exultation;
Sing, all ye citizens of heav’n above!
Glory to God, Glory in the highest;
Oh, come, let us adore him; Oh, come, let us adore him;
Oh, come, let us adore him, Christ, the Lord.
Yea, Lord, we greet thee, Born this happy morning;
Jesus, to thee be all glory giv’n.
Son of the Father, Now in flesh appearing;
Oh, come, let us adore him; Oh, come, let us adore him;
Oh, come, let us adore him, Christ, the Lord.
The Little Match Girl
by Hans Christian Anderson
It was very, very cold; it snowed and it grew dark; it was the
last evening of the year, New Year’s Eve. In the cold and dark a poor little girl, with bare head and
bare feet, was walking through the streets. When she left her own house she certainly had had
slippers on; but what could they do? They were very big slippers, and her mother had used them till
then, so big were they. The little maid lost them as she slipped across the road, where two carriages
were rattling by terribly fast.
One slipper was not to be found again, and a boy ran away with the
other. He said he could use it for a cradle when he had children of his own.
So now the little girl went with her little naked feet, which were
quite red and blue with the cold. In an old apron she carried a number of matches, and a bundle of
them in her hand. No one had bought anything from her all day; no one had given her a copper.
Hungry and cold she went, and drew herself together, poor little thing! The snowflakes fell on
her long yellow hair, which curled prettily over her neck; but she did not think of that now. In all
the windows lights were shining, and there was a glorious smell of roast goose out there in the
street; it was no doubt New Year’s Eve. Yes, she thought of that!
In a corner formed by two houses, one of which was a little
farther from the street than the other, she sat down and crept close. She had drawn up her little feet,
but she was still colder, and she did not dare to go home, for she had sold no matches, and she had not
a single cent; her father would beat her; and besides, it was cold at home, for they had nothing
over the them but a roof through which the wind whistled, though straw and rags stopped the largest
holes.
Her small hands were quite numb with the cold. Ah! a little match
might do her good if she only dared draw one from the bundle, and strike it against the wall,
and warm her fingers at it. She drew one out. R-r-atch! how it spluttered and burned! It was a
warm bright flame, like a little candle, when she held her hands over it; it was a wonderful little
light! It really seemed to the little girl as if she sat before a great polished stove, with
bright brass feet and a brass cover. The fire burned so nicely; it warmed her so well, -- the little girl
was just putting out her feet to warm these, too, -- when out went the flame; the stove was gone; -- she
sat with only the end of the burned match in her hand.
She struck another; it burned; it gave a light; and where it shone
on the wall, the wall became thin like a veil, and she could see through it into the room where a
table stood, spread with a white cloth, and with china on it; and the roast goose smoked
gloriously, stuffed with apples and dried plums. And what was still more splendid to behold, the goose
hopped down from the dish, and waddled along the floor, with a knife and fork in its breast;
straight to the little girl he came. Then the match went out, and only the thick, damp, cold wall was before
her.
She lighted another. Then she was sitting under a beautiful
Christmas tree; it was greater and finer than the one she had seen through the glass door at the rich
merchant’s. Thousands of candles burned upon the green branches, and colored pictures like those in
the shop windows looked down upon them. The little girl stretched forth both hands toward
them; then the match went out.
The Christmas lights went higher and higher. She saw that now they
were stars in the sky: one of them fell and made a long line of fire.
“Now some one is dying,” said the little girl, for her old
grandmother, the only person who had been good to her, but who was now dead, had said: “When a star
falls, a soul mounts up to God.” She rubbed another match against the wall; it became bright again,
and in the light there stood the old grandmother clear and shining, mild and lovely.
“Grandmother!” cried the child. “Oh, take me with you! I know you
will go when the match is burned out. You will go away like the warm stove, the nice roast
goose, and the great glorious Christmas tree!”
And she hastily rubbed the whole bundle of matches, for she wished
to hold her grandmother fast. And the matches burned with such a glow that it became brighter
than in the middle of the day; grandmother had never been so large or so beautiful. She took the
little girl up in her arms, and both flew in the light and the joy so high, so high! and up there
was no cold, nor hunger, nor care -- they were with God.
But in the corner by the house sat the little girl, with red
cheeks and smiling mouth, frozen to death on the last evening of the Old Year. The New Year’s sun rose
upon the little body, that sat there with the matches, of which one bundle was burned. She wanted
to warm herself, the people said. No one knew what fine things she had seen, and in what glory
she had gone in with her grandmother to the New Year’s Day.
The third candle represents the joy
that we have in the birth of Jesus, but it is pink to remind us of Easter and
the blood of Christ even in midst of the joyous celebrations of Christmastide.
Nevertheless, the sorrow of Christ’s
suffering and death is blotted out as we triumph in his resurrection, and we
anticipate the return of Jesus in his Second Coming with joy.
This candle can also represent the
covenant that God made with Israel through Moses. On one level it represents
the law of Moses, the blood of its offerings prefiguring the sacrifice of Jesus
Christ. On another it represents the Deuteronomic covenant that the Lord will
bless those who will have him to be their God and who covenant to serve him and
be his people.
“Behold, God is my salvation; I will trust, and not be afraid: for
the LORD JEHOVAH is my strength and my song; he also is become my salvation. Therefore
with joy shall ye draw water out of the wells of salvation. And in that
day shall ye say, Praise the LORD, call upon his name, declare his doings among
the people, make mention that his name is exalted. Sing unto the LORD; for he
hath done excellent things: this is known in all the earth” (Isaiah 12:2–5)
“And he said unto me: Awake, and hear the words which I shall tell
thee; for behold, I am come to declare
unto you the glad tidings of great joy. For the Lord hath heard thy
prayers, and hath judged of thy righteousness, and hath sent me to declare unto
thee that thou mayest rejoice; and that thou mayest declare unto thy people, that they may also be filled with joy.
For behold, the time cometh, and is not far distant, that with power, the Lord
Omnipotent who reigneth, who was, and is from all eternity to all eternity,
shall come down from heaven among the children of men, and shall dwell in a
tabernacle of clay . . . And he
shall be called Jesus Christ, the Son of God, the Father of heaven
and earth, the Creator of all things from the beginning; and his mother shall be
called Mary.” (Mosiah 3:3–8)
“Verily, verily, I say unto you, That ye shall weep and lament,
but the world shall rejoice: and ye shall be sorrowful, but your sorrow shall be turned into joy. A woman when she is in
travail hath sorrow, because her hour is come: but as soon as she is delivered
of the child, she remembereth no more the anguish, for joy that a man is born
into the world. And ye now therefore have sorrow: but I will see you again, and
your heart shall rejoice, and your joy
no man taketh from you.” (John 16:20–22)
CAROL: “JOY TO THE WORLD”
The Angel’s Words to Joseph:
“When as . . . Mary was espoused to Joseph, before they came
together, she was found with child of the Holy Ghost. Then Joseph her husband,
being a just man, and not willing to make her a publick example, was minded to
put her away privily.
“But while he thought on these things, behold, the angel of the
Lord appeared unto him in a
dream, saying, ‘Joseph, thou son of David, fear not to take unto
thee Mary thy wife: for that
which is conceived in her is of the Holy Ghost. And she shall
bring forth a son, and thou shalt
call his name JESUS: for he shall save his people from their sins.
Now all this was done, that it might be fulfilled which was spoken of the Lord
by the prophet, saying, Behold, a virgin shall be with child, and shall bring
forth a son, and they shall call his name Emmanuel, which being interpreted is,
God with us.’
“Then Joseph being raised from sleep did as the angel of the Lord
had bidden him, and took unto him his wife: And knew her not till she had
brought forth her firstborn son . . .” (Matthew
1:18–25)
The Testimony of Jacob, the Son of Lehi, to Sherem:
“ . . . Behold, I say unto you that none of the prophets have
written, nor prophesied, save they have spoken concerning this Christ. And this is not all—it has been
made manifest unto me, for I have heard and seen; and it also has been made manifest unto
me by the power of the Holy Ghost; wherefore, I know if there should be no atonement made
all mankind must be lost.” (Jacob 7:11–12)
Carol: “Joy to the World”
Joy to the world, the Lord is come;
Let earth receive her King!
Let ev’ry heart prepare him room,
And Saints and angels sing,
And Saints and angels sing,
And Saints, and Saints and angels sing.
Rejoice! Rejoice when Jesus reigns,
And Saints their songs employ,
While fields and floods, rocks, hills, and plains
Repeat the sounding joy,
Repeat the sounding joy,
Repeat, repeat the sounding joy
No more will sin and sorrow grow,
Nor thorns infest the ground;
He’ll come and make the blessings flow
Far as the curse was found,
Far as the curse was found,
Far as, far as the curse was found.
Rejoice! Rejoice in the Most High,
While Israel spreads abroad
Like stars that glitter in the sky,
And ever worship God,
And ever worship God,
And ever, and ever worship God
The Littlest Angel
by Charles Tazewell
Once upon a time - oh, many, many years ago as time is calculated
by men - but which was only yesterday in the Celestial Calendar of Heaven - there was, in Paradise, a
most miserable, thoroughly unhappy, and utterly dejected cherub who was known throughout Heaven as THE
LITTLEST ANGEL.
He was exactly four weeks, six months, five days, seven hours and
forty-two minutes of age when he presented himself to the venerable Gate-Keeper and waited for
admittance to the glorious Kingdom of God.
Standing defiantly, with his short brown legs wide apart, the
Littlest Angel tried to pretend that he wasn’t at all impressed by such Unearthly Splendor, and that he wasn’t at
all afraid. But his lower lip trembled, and a tear disgraced him by making a new furrow down his already
tear-streaked face - coming to a precipitous halt at the very tip end of his small freckled nose.
But that wasn’t all. While the kindly Gate-Keeper was entering the
name in his great Book, the Littlest Angel, having left home as usual without a handkerchief,
endeavored to hide the tell-tale evidence by sniffling. A most unangelic sound which so unnerved the good
Gate-Keeper that he did something he had never done before in all Eternity. He blotted the page!
From that moment on, the heavenly peace was never quite the same,
and the Littlest Angel soon became the despair of all the Heavenly Host. His shrill, ear-splitting
whistle resounded at all hours through the Golden Streets. It startled the Patriarch Prophets and disturbed
their meditations. Yes, and on top of that, he inevitably and vociferously sang off-key at the singing
practice of the Heavenly Choir, spoiling its ethereal effect.
And, being so small that it seemed to take him just twice as long
as anyone else to get to the nightly prayers, the Littlest Angel always arrived late, and always
knocked everyone’s wings askew as he darted into his place.
Although these flaws in behavior might have been overlooked, the
general appearance of the Littlest Angel was even more disreputable than his deportment. It was first
whispered among the Seraphim and Cherubim, and then said aloud among the Angels and Archangels,
that he didn’t even look like an angel!
And they were all quite correct. He didn’t. His halo was
permanently tarnished where he had held on to it with one hot little chubby hand when he ran, and he was always
running. Furthermore, even when he stood very still, it never behaved like a halo should. It was always
slipping down over his right eye. Or over his left eye.
Or else, just for pure meanness, slipping off the back of his head
and rolling away down some Golden Street just so he’d have to chase after it.
Yes, and it must be here recorded that his wings were neither
useful nor ornamental. All Paradise held its breath when the Littlest Angel perched himself like a fledgling
sparrow on the very edge of a gilded cloud and prepared to take off. He would teeter this way - and that way
- but, after much coaxing and a few false starts, he would shut both of his eyes, hold his freckled nose,
count up to three hundred and three, and then
hurl himself s-l-o-w-l-y into space! However, owing to the
regrettable fact that he always forgot to move his wings, the Littlest Angel always fell head over halo!
It was also reported, and never denied, that whenever he was
nervous, which was most of the time, he bit his wing-tips!
Now, anyone can easily understand why the Littlest Angel would,
soon or later, have to be disciplined. And, so, on an Eternal Day of an Eternal Month in the Year
Eternal, he was directed to present his small self before an Angel of the Peace.
The Littlest Angel combed his hair, dusted his wings and scrambled
into an almost clean robe, and then, with a heavy heart, trudged his way to the place of judgment. He
tried to postpone the dreaded ordeal by loitering along the Street of The Guardian Angels, pausing a few
timeless moments to minutely pursue the long list of new arrivals, although all Heaven knew he couldn’t
read a word. And he idled more than several immortal moments to carefully examine a display of aureate
harps, although everyone in the Celestial City knew he couldn’t tell a crochet from a semiquaver.
But at length and at last he slowly approached a doorway which was surmounted by a pair of golden
scales, signifying that Heavenly Justice was dispensed within. To the Littlest Angel’s great surprise, he
heard a merry voice, singing!
The Littlest Angel removed his halo and breathed upon it heavily,
then polished it upon his robe, a procedure which added nothing to the garment’s already untidy
appearance, and then tip - toed in!
The Singer, who was known as the Understanding Angel, looked down
at the small culprit, and the Littlest Angel instantly tried to make himself invisible by the ingenious
process of withdrawing his head into the collar of his robe, very much like a snapping turtle.
At that, the Singer laughed, a jolly. heartwarming sound, and
said, “Oh! So you’re the one who’s been making Heaven so unheavenly! Come here, Cherub, and tell me all
about it!” The Littlest Angel ventured a furtive look from beneath his robe. First one eye.
And then the other eye.
Suddenly, almost before he knew it, he was perched on the lap of
the understanding Angel, and was explaining how very difficult it was for a boy who suddenly finds
himself transformed into an angel. Yes, and no matter what the archangels said, he’d only swung once.
Well, twice. Oh, all right, then, he’d swung three times on the Golden Gates.
But that was just for something to do!
That was the whole trouble. There wasn’t anything for a small
angel to do. And he was very homesick. Oh, not that Paradise wasn’t beautiful! But the Earth was beautiful,
to! Wasn’t it created by God, Himself? Why, there were trees to climb, and brooks to fish, and caves to
play at pirate chief, the swimming holes, and sun, and rain, and dark, and dawn, and thick brown dust, so
soft and warm beneath your feet!
The Understanding Angel smiled, and in his eyes was a long
forgotten memory of another small boy in a long ago.
Then he asked the Littlest Angel what would make him most happy in
Paradise. The Cherub thought for a moment, and whispered in his ear.
“There’s a box. I left it under my bed back home. If only I could
have that?”
The Understanding Angel nodded his head, “You shall have it,” he
promised. And a fleet-winged Heavenly messenger was instantly dispatched to bring the box to
Paradise.
And then, in all those timeless days that followed, everyone
wondered at the great change in the Littlest Angel, for, among all the cherubs in God’s Kingdom, he was the
most happy. His conduct was above the slightest reproach. His appearance was all that the most
fastidious could wish for.
And on excursions to Elysian Fields, it could be said, and truly
said, that he flew like an angel!
Then it came to pass that Jesus, the Son of God, was to be born of
Mary, of Bethlehem, of Judea. And as the glorious tidings spread through Paradise, all the angels
rejoiced and their voices were lifted to herald the miracle of Miracles, the coming of the Christ Child.
The Angels and Archangels, the Seraphim and Cherubim, the
Gate-Keeper, the Wingmaker, yes, and even the Halosmith put aside their usual tasks to prepare their gifts
for the Blessed Infant. All but the Littlest Angel. He sat himself down on the top-most step of the Golden
Stairs and anxiously waited for inspiration. What could he give that would be most acceptable to the Son of
God? At one time he dreamed of composing a lyric hymn of adoration. But the Littlest Angel was
woefully wanting in musical talent.
Then he grew tremendously excited over writing a prayer! A prayer
that would live forever in the hearts of men, because it would be the first prayer ever to be heard by the
Christ Child. But the Littlest Angel was lamentably lacking in literate skill. “What, oh what, could a
small angel give that would please the Holy Infant?
The time of the Miracle was very close at hand when the Littlest
Angel at last decided on his gift. Then, on that Day of Days, he proudly brought it from its hiding place behind
a cloud, and humbly, with downcast eyes, placed it before the Throne of God. It was only a small,
rough, unsightly box, but inside were all those wonderful things that even a Child of God would treasure!
A small, rough, unsightly box, lying among all those other
glorious gifts from all the angels of paradise! Gifts of such rare and radiant splendor and breathless beauty that
heaven and all the universe were lighted by the mere reflection of their glory! And when the Littlest Angel
saw this, he suddenly knew that his gift to God’s child was irreverent, and he devoutly wished he might
reclaim his shabby gift. It was ugly. It was worthless. If only he could hide it away from the sight of God
before it was even noticed!
But it was too late! The hand of God moved slowly over all that
bright array of shining gifts... then paused... then dropped... then came to rest on the lowly gift of
the Littlest Angel!
The Littlest Angel trembled as the box was opened, and there,
before the eyes of God and all his heavenly host, was what he offered to the Christ child.
And what was his gift to the blessed infant? Well, there was a
butterfly with golden wings, captured one bright, summer day on the hills above Jerusalem, and a sky-blue
egg from a bird’s nest in the olive tree that stood to shade his mother’s kitchen door. Yes, and two white
stones, found on a muddy river bank, where he and his friends had played like small, brown beavers,
and, at the bottom of the box, a limp, toothmarked leather strap, once worn as a collar by his mongrel dog, who had
died as he had lived, in absolute love and infinite devotion.
The Littlest Angel wept hot, bitter tears, for now he knew that
instead of honoring the Son of God, he had been most blasphemous.
Why had he ever thought that the box was so wonderful!
Why had he dreamed that such utterly useless things would be loved
by the blessed infant!
In frantic terror, he turned to run and hide from the divine wrath
of the heavenly Father, but he stumbled and fell and, with a horrified wail and a clatter of halo, rolled
in a ball of misery to the very foot of the heavenly throne!
There was an ominous and dreadful silence in the celestial city, a
silence complete and undisturbed for the heartbroken sobbing of the Littlest Angel.
Then, suddenly, the voice of God, like divine music, rose and
swelled throughout paradise!
And the voice of God spoke, saying: Of all the gifts of all the
angels, I find that this small box pleases me the most. Its contents are of the earth and of men, and my Son is
born to be king of both. These are the things my Son, too, will know and love and cherish and then,
regretfully, will leave behind him when his task is done. I accept this gift in the name of the child, Jesus,
born of Mary this night in Bethlehem. There was a breathless pause, and then the rough, unsightly box of
the Littlest Angel began to glow with a bright, unearthly light, then the light became a lustrous flame,
and the flame became a radiant brilliance that blinded the eyes of all the angels!
None but the Littlest Angel saw it rise from its place before the
throne of God. And he, and only he, watched it arch away from heaven and shed its clear, white,
beckoning light over a stable where a child was born.
There it shone on that night of miracles, and its light was
reflected down the centuries deep in the heart of all mankind. Yet, earthly eyes, blinded, too, by its splendor,
could never know that the lowly gift of the Littlest Angel was what all men would call forever, “The shining
star of Bethlehem!”
