Vermont watchman and State journal. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1836-1883, 1881-12-21
Christmas as We Grow Older.

Time was, with most of us, when Christ
like magic ring, left nothing out for us to
Haiss o. sools hound toUather oil onr hor,e
enjoyments, affections and hopes grouped
everything and every one around the Christ
mas fire, and made the little picture shining
in our bright young eyes complete.
On this day we shut out nothing "Pause"
says low voice. "Nothing? Think -
"On Christmas day we will shut out from
our fireside nothing" "Not the shadow of
vast city, where the withered leaves are
lying deep ?" the voice replies. "Not the
shadow that darkens the whole globe Not
the shadow that darkens the city of the
dead 2" Not even that OF all the days in
the year, we will turn our faces toward that
city upon Christmas day, and from its silent
hosts bring those we loved among us. City
of the dead, in the blessed name wherein
we are gathered together at this time, and
in the Presence that is here among us &C.
cording to the promise, we will receive and
not dismiss thy people, who are dear to us.
Yes. We can look upon these children
angels that alight so solemnly, so beautifully
among the living children by the fire, and
can bear to think how they departed from
us. Entertaining angels unawares, as the
patriarchs did, the playful children are un-
conscious Of their guests, but we can see
them-can see radiant arm around one ia.
vorite neck, as if they were tempting of
that child away. Among the celestial fig
ures there is one, poor misshapen boy on
earth, of glorious beauty now, of whom
his dying mother said it grieved her much
to leave him here alone, for so many years
as it was likely would elapse before he came
to her-being such child. But he went
quickly, and was laid upon her breast, and
in her hand she leads him. There was a
gallant boy who fell far away. upon burn
ing sand and beneath burning sun, and
said Tell them at home, with my last
love, how much could have wished to kiss
them once, but that l died contented and
over whom they read the words, Therefore
consigned him to the lonely ocean and
sailed on. Or there was another who lay
down to his rest in the dark shadow of great
forests and, on earth woke no more. Oh
shall they not, from land and sea and for
est, be brought home at such time ?
There was a dear girl-almost a woman
never to be one-who made a mourning
Christmas in house of Joy, and went her
trackless way to the silent city. Do we rec
ollect her worn out, family whispering that
which could not be heard, and falling into
that last sleep for WEAKNESS 7 o look upon
her now? o look upon her beauty, her
serenity, her changeless youth, her happi-
ness The daughter of Jairus was recalled
to life, to die; but she more blest, she heard
the same voice, saying unto her, Arise for
ever !" We had a friend who was our friend
from early days, with whom we often pic
tured the changes that were to come upon
our lives, and merrily imagined how we
would speak and walk, and think, and talk,
when we came to be old. His destined hab-
itation in the city of the dead received him
in his prime. Shall he be shut out from
our Christmas remembrance Would his
love 80 exclude us Lost friend, lost child,
lost parent, sister, brother, wife, husband,
we will not so discard you. You shall hold
your cherished places in our Christmas
hearts and by our Christmas fires and, in
the season of immortal hope, and on the
birthday of immortal mercy we will shut
out nothing. The winter sun goes down
over town and village; on the sea it makes
q rosy path, as if the sacred tread were
afresh upon the water. A few more mo
ments, and it sinks, and night comes on,
and light begin to sparkle in the prospect.
On the hillside beyond the shlpelessly diff
fused town, and the quiet keeping Of the
trees that gird the village steeple, remem'
brances are cut in stone, planted in common
flowers, growing in grass, entwined with
lowly brambles around many a mound of
earth. In town and village there are doors
and windows closed against the weather,
there are flaming logs heaped high, there
are joyful faces, there is healthy music OF
voices. Be all ungentleness and harm ex,
cluded from the temples of the household
gods, but be those remembrances admitted
with tender encouragement. They are OF
the time and all its comforting and peace
full reassurances, and of history that reunited
even upon earth this living and the dead
and of the broad benefoence and goodness
that too many men have tried to tear to mar
row shreds.--Dickens.