The Wolf Point herald. (Wolf Point, Mont.) 1913-1940, 1930-12-26
A Wise Man
FoUous The Star

In city, IN country, on every hand
The Christmas songs were sung.
In a humble shack, on the prairie wild,
Sat a mother with children, three,
And one remarked, in the way of a child,
81 wonder where Daddy can be-"
The mother repressed a cry of pain
That came from her grieftorn breast,
With pitiful sadness she tried to explain
How he'd gone with Jesus to rest.
But she could not tell, when the story she told,
That not more than a week ago
They had brought him home all lifeless and cold,
Through the sleet and the binding snow.
He had ridden away at a rollicking lope, =
And his heart was happy and gay,
But his horse had slipped on a treacherous slope
And his neck was broken, they say.
Next morning she'd gone to a neighbours shack,
Over roads that were drifted and bad.
And two days later they had brought him back
Now the children were asking for dad" s
Though her heart was heavy, her spirit forlorn,
She scarce dared a moments pause, g
She told them the tales of the first Christmas morn,
And Christmas, and Santa Claus.
With a sob she remembered the tree they had planned,
With tinsel, and candles, and such;
How he'd get a small tree and they'd fix it Just grand
But now it would not matter much.
A man was riding along that night,
He felt weary and tired of life;
Dissipation had left on his soul a blight,
He had lost in the worlds great strife.
He'd been drinking and gambling for several days
In the town he'd left twenty miles back;
He now was going, after many delays,
To his desolate, cherries shack.
He remembered the day when he'd come to this land,
Ambitious and filled with hope,
But he'd found it too easy to alter a brand
And had barely escaped the rope.
After two years in prison he'd come back to find
That his wife had "gone back and was free;
To the ways of the decent there was nothing to bind
And he drifted as low as could be.
His life seemed empty, he was weighed with woe.
On that Christmas Eve as he rode;
His horse was weary and his head dropped low,
On their way to that cherries abode.
But he noticed a light by the side of the way
And it scattered its beams afar,
He remembered a poster he'd seen that day
Entitled "The Guiding Star"
AS they cam near the place of the man who had died
There came forth the words of a song,
Of the Man who for sinners had been crucihed-
The old Story that's been told so long.
The weary horse stopped of his own accord,
The lonely man dropped to the ground,
To the window he crept without any word
And this is the scene that he found.
The brave mother sang an old Christmas song.
Or, perhaps twas a story she told,
The old days came back, though the time had been long,
He could hear his sweet mother of old.
SILENT NIGHT, HOLY NIGHT"
The mother was teaching her child;
"ALL IS DARK SAVE THE LIGHT"
And the old sinners eyes looked wild.
He saw, in fancy, the old church again,
And the old folks at home came back,
His heart took up the old sweet refrain,
He's forgotten his desolate shack
With his playmates he brought home the Christmas tree,
Set it up with the greatest care,
In the morning they'd view it in childish glee
And they'd find all their presents there.
GUIDING STAR I'M TIFF LIGHT"
The outcast came back with a start,
How could he share in the gift of the Light
Unless he should give in his part?
His cap in his hands, his knees in the snow,
He eagerly drank in each word.
While the children were praying, his head bent low.
And his spirit cried out to the Lord.
AS the mother was putting the children to bed,
He stifly arose from his knees.
He settled his battered old cap on his head
And turned his face to the breeze.
A trip to his ranch and a change to a team,
Then back to the town he went,
OF course at this hour there was scarcely a. CLEAN,
But for that he'd not care a red cent. a
He woke up the dealer who sold merchandise.
The dealer was ready to roar,
When he saw a new fire in the outcast's eyes
And he promptly opened the store.
For an hour they sorted, and then they must pack,
AT two, he was on the back trail,
At five, he had knocked on the door OF the shack,
Though his heart was ready to fail.
TO the sleepyeyed mother who opened the door
He quickly made known his plan,
Then he carried in parcels and piled on the floor Z
Till it seemed he'd unloaded a van.
Then he fixed up the fire till the kettle did steam.
And he swept out the snow he had brought,
Then he went to the stable to care for his team
For of course they were weary and hot.
And when he came back they both set to work
To make the things jibe with his plan,
At sun-up he came to himself with a jerk,
But he never would be the same man.
When the children arose he lighted the tree,
Then sat back to enjoy their surprise.
His heart was happy, his laugh was free,
When he saw the wild joy in their eyes.
He romped with the children, and played with their toys,
And his troubles seemed far away.
He worked out their puzzles and made lots Of noise
And the spirit of Christmas held sway.
Then when he went home after dinner was done,
tFor he even had thought of that, too)
He knew that the Christchild a victory had won
He believed the Old Story was true.
Though the shack had been lonely, it wasn't so. now,