The Cecil Whig., 1885-12-26
THE LIGHTS OF CHRISTMAS.

THE LIGHTS OF CHRISTMAS.
If there is ever a time when the
many lights dwindle to one light it
is when the glad season of Christmas
comes and all the sunshine and the
starshine of nature vies with the shin
ing hearts and faces of the great hui
man family. Shadows, sand gloom,and
tears, are at discount then, sure
enough, and laughter is as free as
the wild winds that wait the snow
fakes into every beaming face and
pile them up in glistening drifts
along the roadside. The first lights
of Christmas are those far off and
beautiful Pleads and satellites, and
planets, that shine down upon the
earth with such tender benevolence,
such kindly and loving rays, that
men begin to think there is a new
Bethlehem ad a new manger with its
infinite babe to which the placid con-
stellations are leading. This thought
is not far wrong, for into every heart
and soul the love of the infinite babe
is new-borne with tokens of the vast
divinity whose love encompasses not
only the one babe but all mankind,
either of old or young.
The great old farm house in the
hollow by the big walnut tree is the
place to look for the lights of Christ
mas. The great oven in the old
fashioned kitchen glows like a forge
fame red for weeks before the happy
festival, and great flaky masses of
dough in all sorts and conditions Of
color, shape and size are cast into
the ponderous jaws only to be drawn
forth again converted into every
imaginable species of tumble, and
cookie, loaf cake and fruit, pudding
and pie, till the assortment is COM
plete and placed in tempting array
on the groaning dresser until the
morning of the glad forgiving day
when all feel compelled to indulge a
little more generously than usual in
dainties and confections. The hearty
sons of toll, with the tan of the sum-
mer sun and wind still upon them
join in heart with the merry jingle of
the bells that announce the passing
sleigh, and the gray locks of the old
folks seem to turn brown and golden
again as in youth when the merry
children climb upon knees and shoul
ders to claim attention for their dolls
and toys. The old farm house is a
genial and generous place when the
lights of Christmas shine. 1t offers
a great big yes to every question
asked during the happy season. The
quality of mercy is not a strained
one then. To give seems better than
to receive, and above all the lights
shed from all the lamps imaginable
shine the tender lights of charity.
Lazarus does not linger long at the
doorway to plead in vain. Share
and share alike of the pleasant
Christmas cheer is the one great
creed discoverable in our national
celebration of the Divine Nativity.
The Son was given to the world that
the world might learn to give in turn.
So many years has this simple lesson
been taught but so imperfectly has it
yet been learned! The people at the
old farm house are the first to learn
it, generally; they know what it is to
receive, and they feel a glory in be-
slowing. They receive the bounteous
harvest OF the field, they receive the
rich crop of the woodland; they be
stow a remnant of the testal board
upon the pauper and the unfortunate.
they cast the hallowed bread of char
ity upon the waters and it returns in
many days in manifold blessing. The
lights of Christmas at the old farm
house never dwindle until the heart
dwindles and the great spark of life
tlickers upon the altar, tiickers and
fades and dies. 1t is Christmas all
the year in the hearts of the people
at the old farm house. Perpetual
festival is kept for the sunshine and
the starshine of Him whose festal it
is never burns low, or fades and dies.
They are continual and eternal, con-
stant and faithful in their shining and
the hearts of the folks at the old farm
house forever reflect the light that is
shed SO Immortality.
There is a great tenement house in
the great city where the lights of
Christmas are shed sometimes, too.
1t is not cleanly place, nor a hand
some place, but it is just such place
where the shadow of sickness and
death broods on gloomy pinions, and
where the clouds are only sundered
once a year, and that is when the
lights of Christmas creep through filth
and shadow in their cheery and loving
way. The footsteps Of angels are not
more tender and welcome to the ears
of those who dwell in the great tenez
ment house, than are The footsteps of
those thoughtful men, those noble wo-
man. who enter from the bustlIng street
to remind them Of the happy time and
leave them pleasant tokens of the sea-
son; leave them food and raiment.
and leave them the language of some
simple prayer or humble hymn to