|
The tradition of giving gifts has many roots;
however, the most widely accepted one evolved
from the story of St. Nicholas, a bishop,
who was born in Turkey.
The story goes that he had heard of a family
with three daughters all over marriageable
age who were unable to wed as they had no dowry.
St. Nicholas had to give up all of his worldly
possessions to become a bishop so he took three bags
of gold coins and dropped them down the chimney.
The coins landed in the girls stockings which
had been hung to dry on the fireplace.
St. Nicholas was caught in the act by their
father whom St. Nicholas begged to keep his secret;
however, barely two days later the entire village
learned of the gifts.
The night of the Saviour's birth,
all the living creatures,
both flora and fauna,
came to Bethlehem with gifts.
The olive tree brought its fruit
and the palm its dates.
But the little fir tree had no gift
and was so tired it couldn't resist when
the big trees pushed it into the background
and hid it from view.
But then a nearby angel took pity
and commanded a cluster of stars to come
and rest on its delicate boughs.
When the Baby Jesus beheld this lovely lighted tree,
He smiled and blessed it,
declaring henceforth that fir trees should always
be filled with lights at Christmastime
to please little children.
When Christ was born on Christmas Day
The birds and the beasts knelt down to pray.
In wonder all,
Adoring kneeled--
The ox in his stall,
The fox in the field,
While badger and bear and each wild thing
Flocked round the manger where slept a King
Housed in a stable at Bethlehem.
And the long-legged stork was there with them,
With her feathers white,
Her crest held high,
And awe in her bright,
Compassionate eye.
"Alas," mourned she, "how poor His bed
Who rules the universe overhead!"
"Though cozily curled
Sleep all my breed,
The Lord of the World
Lies hard, indeed."
"Unpillowed is He who should wear a crown."
Then out of her bossom she plucked the down.
The plumes from her brest
She tugged and tore
That the Child should rest
Like a beggar no more
But fine on a pallet fit for a prince.
And Blest has the stork been, ever since--
For the gift that she gave of her body's wear,
Blest on chimneys, blest in the air,
And patron of babies everywhere.
|
