The Cotton Factory Times. — 1895-01-04 (Manchester, Greater Manchester, England)

CHAPTER XXI. "THS SPANISH 1,1./R."  The scroll of time, the past end of which rolls up as the future end is unfolded, opened out slowly into December; and Christmas came.  On Christmas Eve Rose went carol singing with the chapel choir. They visited the houses of several of the leading members of the congregation, and sang hymns in the night, being rewarded with a hot coffee supper. The night was frosty; the stars shone clearly ; and there was a touch of poetry and romance about this nut-door rambling and singing that suited Rose. She thought about the sweet little Baby in the Bethlehem manger hundreds of years ago; she pictured to herself the shepherds on the dark lonely hills; the sudden shine of the wonderful star; and fancied she could hear, like fairy echoes, the inspired music of the first Christmas carol ever sung—and not poured from human throats, which are dust, and, therefore, akin to depravity, but sung by the voices of pure and glittering angels: that divinest of all carols ever heard on earth, "Peace on earth—goodwill to men.' Then she saw the three wise men coming from the mysterious east, led by the star; she saw them kneel before the Holy Babe, and lay their offerings down at the feet of the radiant mother. How strange it was that a child born over eighteen hundred years ago should make such an impression on the world; that those wee baby hands should have built all the churches and chapels in Eugland and many other lands; that out of that tiny baby mouth had come the glad tidings that had been a lamp of glory to thousands when walking through the Valley of the Shadow of Death. Ah, if people would only think about their religion; if they would only realise that the foundation stone of their earth and heaven was a little child: if they would only ponder the words Christ had spoken about children, and know that his deepest and gentlest utterances, his grandest troths and duties, were all centred round love of children; if they would only remember that he said, "Feed my lambs," " Except ye become as a little child ye cannot enter the kingdom," " whoso shall offend one of these little ones it were better for him that a millstone were hanged round his neck and he were drowned in the depths of the sea,"—if they would but keep these words more in their hearts and less on their lips—there would not be one poor suffering child in all the empire ! Surely the nation did not understand the religion it professed; surely it could not see the lovely and divine meaning of the words "A little child shall lead them"; surely it failed to grasp the holy truth that unless a band of happy smiling children, clasping the hands of their mothers, led up the march of the human race, there would be no real progress made at all. That was the meaning of God becoming a child to save mankind :—but alas I the people did not understand, they did not understand. Thus Rose thought under the Christmas midnight sky, but not so her companions. They shouted and made coarse jests, and the animal talk that oozed forth as soon as every pure spiritual lyric was finished shocked Rose's soul; and murdered the music of the occasion with brutal discord. They played the harp of God with muddy hands.