CHRISTMAS,— A MOTHER'S EXCUSE.

It comes again, the blessed day, Made glorious by the Saviour's birth, When faintly in a manger dawned The light of God which fills the earth

On this sweet morn, in years gone by, Around one happy hearth we came, And wished each other joy and peace, Embracing in the dear Lord's name.

Now o'er a weary, wintry waste, My heart a loving pilgrim wends Her pious way, this holy time, To greet you, O belovéd friends!

Fondly I long to take my place Beside your hearth, its joy to share,— To sun me in the summer smiles Of the dear faces gathered there.

But baby eyes upraised to mine, And baby fingers on my breast, Steep all my soul in sweet content,— Charm even such longings into rest.

Yet, dear ones, let my name be breathed Kindly around the Christmas tree, And my soul's presence greet, as oft In Christmas times ye 've greeted me.

No unadorned and humble guest Comes that fond soul this blessed even She bears a jewel on her breast That radiates the light of heaven.

A rose, that breathes of Paradise, Just budded from the life divine, A little, tender, smiling babe, As yet more God's and heaven's than mine.

Born in the Saviour's hallowed month, A blessed Christ-child may she be, A little maiden of the Lord, Room for her by the Christmas tree!