I am the Christmas spirit! I enter the home of poverty, causing palefaced 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 old glad way. I keep romance alive in the heart of childhood and brighten dreams woven of majic. I cause eager feet to climb dark stairways with filled baskets, leaving behind hearts amazed at the goodness of the world. I cause the prodigal to pause a moment on his wild, wasteful way, and send to anxious love some little token that releases glad tears~tears which wash away the hard lines of sorrow. I enter dark prison cells, reminding scarred manhood of what might have been, and pointing forward to good days yet to be. I come softly into the still, white home of pain, and lips that are too weak to speak just tremble in silent, eloquent gratitude. In a thousand ways I cause the weary 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! E.C. Baird ©opywrite 
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