I am the Christmas spirit.
I enter the home of poverty, causing pale-faced children to open their eyes wide in pleased wonder.
I cause the miser's clutched hand to relax and thus paint a bright spot on his soul.
I cause the AGED to renew their youth and to laugh in the glad old ways.
I keep romance alive in the heart of childhood and brighten sleep with dreams woven of magic.
I cause eager feet to climb dark stairways with filled baskets, leaving behind them hearts amazed at the goodness of the world.
I cause the prodigal to to pause a moment on his wild, wasteful way, and send to anxious love some little token that released glad tears - tears which wash away the hard lines of sorrow.
I enter prison cells, reminding scarred manhood of what might have been, and pointing forward to good days yet to come.
I come softly into the still, white home of pain; and lips that are to weak to speak just tremble in silent, eloquently gratitude.
In a thousand ways I cause the weary world to look up into the face of God and for a little moment forget the things that are small and wretched.
I am the Christmas spirit.
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