OCR Text |
Show THE MISSING STOCKING! The merry Christmas Eve comes round And happy urchins everywhere abound; The plenteous board dispenses richest fare, And presents pass around, both quaint and rare; The Christmas trees are planted tall and strong On which old Santa Claus his gifts will throng. In a quiet city of this mountain land An unpretentious house is found to stand, In which the inmates thought to celebrate Our Savior's birthday, in their humble state; Among the neighboring hills a tree was sought And from the mountain side the same was brought, Unto the house and firmly planted, was With fervent wishes that old Santa Claus Would deign to visit it, and have sweet toys, And other things, to make them all rejoice; And ere the children did retire to rest Upon that eve, they, they felt they were blest In having a tree to gambol round; A happier group elsewhere could not be found. The stockings on the tree were fastened tight, And, prayers over, whispers of good night Did close the prattle of that joyous crowd, And soon their breaths in sleep were clear and loud. The fond, kind mother curious to see Her darling's work, at once glanced o'er the tree, And there beheld a row of stockings hung At which she gazed, as if by sadness stung; Her countenance bespoke a heartfelt grief Like one who seeks and cannot find relief. She looked intent, upon the childish sight - "Alas, I miss a stocking here tonight! It is my darling boy's that's gone and fled And now is numbered with the silent dead; How much do I deplore the loss of him Is past expression, and I feel within A sadness, were it not for faith and prayer I'd sink beneath the load in wild despair. The gospel, which I'm favored to behold, The glorious facts of life and death unfolds, Dispels the glooms that make bereavement sad, And shows that we must taste the good and bad. The sweet and bitter, else we ne'er could know God's purpose of our mission here below. When e'er the gospels sacred truths were taught, The light of immortality is brought To view and blest am I that in my day The light of truth illuminates my way; The balm of hope heals up my aching heart, And causes latent energies to start; The spirit's sacred unction points to one Who conquered death and glorious victory won. Through Him the resurrection will restore The righteous dead to life, and nevermore Will death bereave them, nor its pangs annoy Throughout the endless days and years to come, ??? Line unreadable ??? And having thus descanted in her grief, She paused and said, "Thank God for such relief, A work remains for me to execute, To teach my darlings how to prosecute Life's sacred mission and fill up their days In righteousness and truth in all their ways. I too must seek to keep the laws of heaven, Discharge the trust that unto me is given, And thus prepare to meet my darling ones, Unite with them, while ages run" And having solace found, she looked with pride Upon the Christmas tree, and then she spied, Among its limbs and prongs each tiny toy That would have gratified her darling boy. The stockings ready poised, awaiting store Of sweetmeats and etceteras in galore Were duly filled and happy thoughts obtained By which her heart and feelings were constrained To recognize the hand of God always, And be content through all the varied ways Through which his providences may dictate, And fill the measure of her mortal state. James A. Leishman. |