Now Christmas is a porter’s-rest whereon to set his load;
Nia And Christmas was a blessed bed for One who loved her God.
And Christmas is a chiming bell to ships upon the sea
That decks the shrouds and lights the ports and tolls for Memory—
But Christmas is a meeting-place
For you and me.
God send your hearts may never grow so old
As to forget that this day Mary’s lips
First touched Her young Child’s brow: and may your eyes
Not ever grow too cold to recognize
Howto poor men and women these days bear
A gift of rest. Pray that the gentle air
Give relaxation to a myriad ships …
And, oh my little ones, may no December
See Christmas come and me no longer dear
To your dear hearts and voices. This remember:
How Christmas is the pardon day when Justice drops its load;
And is the lily-blossomed field where Jesus walks with God.
Now Saints set foot upon the waves to still the yeasty sea,
And other Saints to hurdled sheep give comfort patiently.
Now all good men beside their hearths call upon Memory:
Now, now comes in the meeting-time
For you and me!