Iron County register. [volume] (Ironton, Iron County, Mo.) 1867-1965, 1884-12-11
CHRISTMAS JOYS.
In Our Rejoicings Let Us Not Forget tn
Unfortunate and the Needy.
Baptist Weekly

CHRIS MAS OoYS.
In Our Reioicings Let Us Not Forget the
Unfortunate and the Needy.
The old story is ever new; the old
song is ever fresh; the old sky which
hung its white clouds upon the blue
canopy, and set it with stars at night,
over peaceful Eden, is as beautiful and
inspiring now as it was when the stars
first sang their choral triumph. And so
it is with the anniversary which casts
its rays of JOY backward and forward
over many days. There is fiutter of
delightful expectancy among the little
| ones. There is rarely heart burdened
with a weight of care or anxiety so
heavily that it will not spring up with
something of the buoyancy and simplic-
ity of childhood. The associations of
happy Christmas days gone by crowd
in upon us. The long gallery of memory
is filed with sweet music, and glancing
lights, and fair faces wreathed in >miles,
some of which have long been in repose
beneath the ''mossy marble. Each
happy day is a new treasure stored
y
often to be recalled in quiet hours-a
beautiful panorama set to the music of
distant bells Such treasures neither
moth nor rust can corrupt, nor thieves
break through and steal. Doubtless
we shall keep them fresh and bright
even in Heaven. If age has not the ex-
uberance of youth it has the compensa-
tons of memory. Like an old tree,
Il, Hood IoaS NOT flow
so quickly, it is richer, and bursts forth
into coronal of sweet young blossoms
of memory and hope.
And now as the old Christmas legend,
opulent with the associations of the
years of life, and of the history of the
centuries, returns again with its freight
of joy. there is warm glow about the
heart, a sudden surrender to the spirit
of full-handed liberality. relenting of
emotions and of purse-strings. The
patron saint of the day is supposed to
be frozen up in his cave in the icy North
all the other days of the year. He
slumbers while the storm roars without.
Not even the flaming borealis can call
forth an exclamation of wonder and
pleasure. But the dawn of Christmas
morning awakens him to joyful life, and
burdened, almost buried, in gifts, he
shoots downward towards the SUMMER
cline behind his meteoric reindeer.
Thus the old myth teaches that hearts
which are impenetrable to every other
influence, glow at touch of the finger
of the Babe of Bethlehem. Souls which
lie ice-bound through all the blithesome
spring and sunny summer and purpling
autumn, have thawed out and are flow
ing like brooks. giving refreshment to
all that grow along or fly above their
margins. 1t is Nav in the soul when it
is December in nature.
We shall haste to make presents to
our loved ones and friends, and will not
forget the widow and the orphan, or the
humble helper in the house or farm-if
we do forget them, the more shame for
us. The Christmas gift of eighteen
centuries ago was exclusively to the
poor and to God-life and eternal
riches to the poor. and the jewels of re-
deemed souls to God. While we will
not forget the poor, let us not forget to
paw our tribute to the bountiful Giver
of all. There will be lulls in the breezes
of mirth on Christmas day; and pauses
in the culver of Christmas chimes; quiet
in the ripples of laughter. Why not re-
member that we can ever give pleasure
to the Author of all our bounties, the
Spring of all our joys? Even we can
give sweeter tone to the golden harps
which ring in the land of immortality.
Even we can reach beyond the stars
and swell the choral symphony:
"Kind Father, give myself to the care of
Thy poor: TO the protection of Thy widowed
and orphaned children: to the comfort and
help of Thine afflicted: to the housing of Thy
homeless: to the education of the ignorant;
to the retaining OF the depraved. give my
self more heartily and actively to Thy work
for the year that is dawning than ever before.
Accept the humble gift, o God. and give to
me ahundantly that my gift may be worthy to
give to Thee
Many will accept the sentiment, and.
perhaps, breathe the VOW and prayer,
but there is long reach from the top
of Horeb to the briery valleys below.
How is it with the wash-woman? Is
she stinted in her wages? Are two
| weeks work crowded into one, at the
expense of her achings thews? Are
there schemes of housekeeping or
small odd jobs to be tackled on to her
DAVIS work? Are the small grocer's
and the cobbler's bills paid, or are they
compelled to wait, and 'call again."
How is it with the seamstress? Does
she run the sewing all day,
| and then do blasting for next days
work till nine clock in the evening,
and all for fifty cents day? Is there
s;inting and scrimping in the small
things and among the small people of
life, in order that there may be display
| among the great? Not so can we re
deem Christian pledge to God. He
does not forget the sparrows, much less
the servants and humble toilers. May
hap, in them dwell Christ, and in you,
Plate. Have care!
'.But are you coming to elank
skeleton at our feast, and to interrupt
the flow of mirth with untimely homl
lies?' Oh, no. Only a moment is nee
essary to key up the spirit. discordans
here, to the melody of the morning
stars and the paans of the angels which
sound down to us from Bethlehem,
This done. the laughter of children, the
merriment of friends, the JOYS of the
household will be sweeter than ever be
fore. and memory win single ont the
day and the hour of the new resolve as