When Christmas bells are swinging above the fields of snow, we hear sweet voices ringing from lands of long ago, read more

When Christmas bells are swinging above the fields of snow, we hear sweet voices ringing from lands of long ago, and etched on vacant places are half-forgotten faces of friends we used to cherish, and loves we used to know.

"What means this glory round our feet,"
The Magi mused, "more bright than morn!"
And voices chanted read more

"What means this glory round our feet,"
The Magi mused, "more bright than morn!"
And voices chanted clear and sweet,
"To-day the Prince of Peace is born."

Did you ever notice that life seems to follow certain patterns? Like I noticed that every year around this time, read more

Did you ever notice that life seems to follow certain patterns? Like I noticed that every year around this time, I hear Christmas music.

You can't get too much winter in the winter.

You can't get too much winter in the winter.

It is good to be children sometimes, and never better than at Christmas, when its mighty Founder was a Child read more

It is good to be children sometimes, and never better than at Christmas, when its mighty Founder was a Child himself.

No trumpet-blast profound
The hour in which the Prince of Peace was born;
No bloody streamlet stained
read more

No trumpet-blast profound
The hour in which the Prince of Peace was born;
No bloody streamlet stained
Earth's silver rivers on the sacred morn.

There's more, much more, to Christmas Than candlelight and cheer; It's the spirit of sweet friendship That brightens all year. read more

There's more, much more, to Christmas Than candlelight and cheer; It's the spirit of sweet friendship That brightens all year. It's thoughtfulness and kindness, It's hope reborn again, For peace, for understanding, And for goodwill to men!

How bless'd, how envied, were our life,
Could we but scape the poulterer's knife!
But man, curs'd read more

How bless'd, how envied, were our life,
Could we but scape the poulterer's knife!
But man, curs'd man, on Turkeys preys,
And Christmas shortens all our days:
Sometimes with oysters we combine,
Sometimes assist the savory chine;
From the low peasant to the lord,
The Turkey smokes on every board.

I am not alone at all, I thought. I was never alone at all. And that, of course, is the read more

I am not alone at all, I thought. I was never alone at all. And that, of course, is the message of Christmas. We are never alone. Not when the night is darkest, the wind coldest, the world seemingly most indifferent. For this is still the time God chooses.