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قراءة كتاب The Spirit of Christmas

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‏اللغة: English
The Spirit of Christmas

The Spirit of Christmas

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دار النشر: Project Gutenberg
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THE

SPIRIT OF CHRISTMAS

BY

HENRY VAN DYKE

(Frontispiece)(Frontispiece)

NEW YORK

CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS

1911


Copyright, 1905, by Charles Scribner's Sons
Published, October, 1905

CONTENTS

A DREAM-STORY

THE CHRISTMAS ANGEL 3

A LITTLE ESSAY

CHRISTMAS-GIVING AND CHRISTMAS-LIVING 33

A SHORT CHRISTMAS SERMON

KEEPING CHRISTMAS 45

TWO CHRISTMAS PRAYERS

A CHRISTMAS PRAYER FOR THE HOME 51

A CHRISTMAS PRAYER FOR LONELY FOLKS 56


A DREAM-STORY

THE CHRISTMAS ANGEL

It was the hour of rest in the Country Beyond the Stars. All the silver bells that swing with the turning of the great ring of light which lies around that land were softly chiming; and the sound of their commotion went down like dew upon the golden ways of the city, and the long alleys of blossoming trees, and the meadows of asphodel, and the curving shores of the River of Life.

At the hearing of that chime, all the angels who had been working turned to play, and all who had been playing gave themselves joyfully to work. Those who had been singing, and making melody on different instruments, fell silent and began to listen. Those who had been walking alone in meditation met together in companies to talk. And those who had been far away on errands to the Earth and other planets came homeward like a flight of swallows to the high cliff when the day is over.

It was not that they needed to be restored from weariness, for the inhabitants of that country never say, "I am tired." But there, as here, the law of change is the secret of happiness, and the joy that never ends is woven of mingled strands of labour and repose, society and solitude, music and silence. Sleep comes to them not as it does to us, with a darkening of the vision and a folding of the wings of the spirit, but with an opening of the eyes to deeper and fuller light, and with an effortless outgoing of the soul upon broader currents of life, as the sun-loving bird poises and circles upward, without a wing-beat, on the upholding air.

It was in one of the quiet corners of the green valley called Peacefield, where the little brook of Brighthopes runs smoothly down to join the River of

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