Classic Poem

Fear the voice of Christmas Present—
Heavenly speech in mortal tongue—
Childhood's lips translating pæans
By its fellow-cherubs sung.

He that read aright the language
Held communion with Above,
Standing near to God and childhood
In democracy of love;

Winning weary hearts to gladness,
From the world's harsh pain and care;
Bearing hope and joy to sadness;
Teaching patience to despair.

Breathe his name in nought of sorrow,
Mourn him not as of the dead,
Though the gentle master's spirit
From a loving world hath fled.

Earth can claim but earthly ashes,
Not the spirit Heaven gave;
For the heart, a world embracing,
All too narrow is the grave.

If in battling wrong to conquer,
Ever on the weaker side,—
If to dwell in hearts unnumbered,
Be to live,—he hath not died.

Pure apostle of the mission
Of the “Peace on earth to men;”
Rare expounder of Christ-loving
Was his love-compelling pen.

In the light of Christmas Present
Be the master's mission seen;
And for that he loved his brother
God will “keep his memory green.”