Montgomery County sentinel. [volume] (Rockville, Md.) 1855-1974, 1889-12-27
CHRISTMAS.

come and gone with all their alternating |
shade and shine, and the great Festal Day
of Christendom has dawned again-and the
earth is once more filled with gladness.
The merry tinkle Of the mythical reindeer
bells still echoes upon the land and in church
and home is heard the laugh of joy as well
as the pean Of praise.
The millionaire and the pauper, the holy
priest and the Gagged convict, the righteous
as well MS the unrighteous, feel the universe
thrill of thanksgiving that belts the earth.
There are novels of the abandoned, homes
of the neglected, and purlieus of abject pow
erty into which the light of transient happi-
ness may net have entered, but, in the main,
the poorest Of Gods creatures are able to
devote one day to merry making.
In this veritabe land of milk and honey
we may well bless the fates for the enjoy
ment this day brings. No skeleton of want
grins at US through the bright windows
of our banquet halls. The joy of no family
feast is marred by the reflection that the
pallid ghost Of famine is stalking at the
door steps. The festival scene becomes the
more bright and beautiful by the knowl-
edge that the vine of plenty f1ourishes upon
every hillside and along every ravine from
which all who wish may gather the grapes
in abundance.
To-day the chimes of the bells and the
roll OF sweet music will follow the carols of
the children, and the churches will solemnly
echo or repeat the gratitude OF the homes.
The bells will peal their Christmas notes,
the organs roll their volumes OF harmony,
and the voice Of song and praise and thanks
giving will lightly burden all the air. From
millions Of homes and hearts and thousands
of churches and choirs the vocal celebration
will pour aloft storming the very heavens
with grateful acknowledgments-the very
earth will seem temple and every home
an altar and every merry voice of innocent
childhood part Of the grand voluntary
that ripples TO the throne of grace.
We have always been impressed with the
idea that Christmas is one of the most sig
nificant land marks along the road of life,
and as one among the many who are "the
abstract and brief chronicle of the time"
cannot pass 1t by without commemorative
word.
1t lie not in human nature, perhaps, to con-
template anniversaries of any sort without
a certain kind of sadness. The mile stones
that mark the road of life are mute, but elo.
quent signs of the transformers OF exist
ence. Onward forever, ceaselessly, paus-
lessly, flows the tide of time, bearing us with
II to the hidden bounds. Every Christmas
Day marks another year Travelled on the in
evitable journey, and there are lew to whom
the advancing shadows do not speak word
OF warning. The significance OF life is long
misunderstood, often missed, never perhaps
fully apprehended even by the wisest.-
Sometimes il is "spot of sunlight travelling
over dark ground, some times il is the
black shadow of n single cloud, the one
speck in the greater ocean of light, one
ilJs life we see slipping away from us faster
rs the years go by and the Christmas Days
multiply behind us. The thought must
startle whenever II comes.
But there is another and deeper Gle.
ment uf sadness even than this. AS each
memorial day arrives 1t is greeted by fewer
eyes hat love us, and to none of us is the
f-,,as Say quite the same as the old Some
there may be TO whom il is brighter, but to
inAny-aA how many lit is dark with the
darkness 81 death There are some to whom
We gave our Christmas greeting year ago
whom to-oay we cannot reach with any
human message of peace and good. will
They have broken the bands OF mortality,
they have solved the eternal mystery, they
connot hear any longer our sobs or our
laughter, they have passed beyond our re-
greet, our longing and our love.
so 1t must ever be with our festivals some.
where and to some Of US. Life is built on
Death, and side by side with Joy walks
Grief with equal foot. Only the very heed.
less or the exceptionally fortunate can speak
oil "the pleasures of memory" and not sigh
inyoluntarially at the bitter irony of the
words, "Give us, ali, give but yesterday
the cry Of many more than the prodigals
who have wasted their youth. II is the cry
Of the desolate Of love, of bereaved human.
ity, ofthe stricken and despairng heart. The
shadow on the dial will not go back, and
the lonely feet must press onward still.
Even the great Christmas JOY cannot heal
some OF the wounds OF the human heart
All this is true, woefully true, and yet 1t
is not the whole truth There is a lessen
in Christmas Day which if it be religious
Z lesson is none the less truly secular one
also. "a lesson which truly to learn is TO
know, MS far as man can know il, the secret
oil lie. The life which came, humanity
speaking, into being to-day wss one whose
: purpose was to teach TO men and women
the lesson of the victory over self. To live
for Others, To find your happiness in others
happiness, is the lesson which He taught
who said it was more blessed to give
than To receive. with self.renunoiation
life begins" The good will to men, which
is the motto of the season, is not senti-
ment, but golden rule which all should
strive to keep-keeping, much whatever of
sorrow or disappointment that may attend
us will disappear under the mellow refiec.
ton that we have lived up to the divine
injunction.
Let us make each other the usual Christ.
mas gifts, rare and costly, or thoughtful
or well considered, or consisting solely of
pleasant helplulness and kindly smiles and
greetings, just as fortune and circumstances
will permit. If the flowers OF charity and
courtesy, forbearance and gentle tolerance,
are growing among us. they will make
happy Christmas for childhood, maturity
and old age alike.
To the numerous friends and readers
OF the SENTINEL-:o those in the rounded
vigor of health-to the aged who.are resting
along the sunset side of life-like ripened