We hear the beating of wings over Bethlehem and
a light that is not of the sun or of the starsw
shines in the midnight sky.
Let the beauty of the story take away all narrowness, all thought of formal creeds. Let it be remembered as a story that has happened again and again, to men of many different races, that has been expressed through many religions, that has been called by many different names. Time and space and language lay no limitations upon human brotherhood.
The earth has grown old with its burden of care
Your friendship is a glowing ember
New York Times editorial of December 25, 1937
But at Christmas it always is young,
The heart of the jewel burns lustrous and fair
And its soul full of music breaks the air,
When the song of angels is sung.
Phillips Brooks.
Through the year; and each December
From its warm and living spark
We kindle flame against the dark
And with its shining radiance light
Our tree of faith on Christmas night.
Thelma J. Lund
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