December 24

THE time draws near the birth of Christ;
The moon is hid, the night is still;
A single church below the hill
Is pealing, folded in the mist.
Alfred Tennyson

TWO thousand years ago there was One here on this earth who lived the grandest life that ever has been lived yet,—a life that every thinking man, with deeper or shallower meaning, has agreed to call divine. I read little respecting His rights or His claims of rights, but I have read a great deal respecting His duties. Every act He did He called a duty. I read very little in that life respecting His rights, but I hear a vast deal respecting His wrongs,—wrongs infinite, wrongs borne with a majestic, Godlike silence. His reward? His reward was the reward that God gives to all His true and noble ones,—to be cast out in His day and generation, and a life-conferring death at last. These were His rights.
Frederick W. Robertson

AN eternal glory has been shed upon the human race by the love Christ bore to it.
Sir J. R. Seeley