f himself, his thought, his sympathy, his vital power,
to the men and women among whom he lived. Once, when a paralytic was
brought to Jesus on a bed, he surprised everybody, and offended many,
by giving the poor wretch the pardon of his sins, before he gave new
life to his body. That was just because Jesus thought before he gave;
because he desired to satisfy the deepest need; because in fact he
gave something of himself in every gift. All true Christmas-giving
ought to be after this pattern.

Not that it must all be solemn and serious. For the most part it deals
with little wants, little joys, little tokens of friendly feeling. But
the feeling must be more than the token; else the gift does not really
belong to Christmas.

It takes time and effort and unselfish expenditure of strength to make
gifts in this way. But it is the only way that fits the season.

The finest Christmas gift is not the one that costs the most money,
but the one that carries the most love.

II

But how seldom Christmas comes--only once a year; and how soon it is
over--a night and a day! If that is the whole of it, it seems not
much more durable than the little toys that one buys of a fakir on the
street-corner. They run for an hour, and then the spring breaks, and
the legs come off, and nothing remains but a contribution to the dust
heap.

But surely that need not and ought not to be the whole of
Christmas--only a single day of generosity, ransomed from the dull
servitude of a selfish year,--only a single night of merry-making,
celebrated in the slave-quarters of a selfish race! If every gift
is the token of a personal thought, a friendly feeling, an unselfish
interest in the joy of others, then the thought, the feeling, the
interest, may remain after the gift is made.

The little present, or the rare and long-wished-for gift (it matters
not whether the vessel be of gold, or silver, or iron, or wood, or
clay, or just a small bit of birch bark folded into a cup), may carry
a message something like this:

"I am thinking of you to-day, because it is Christmas, and I wish you
happiness. And to-morrow, because it will be the day after Christmas,
I shall still wish you happiness; and so on, clear through the year.
I may not be able to tell you about it every day, because I may be
far away; or because both of us may be very busy; or perhaps because I
cannot even afford to pay the postage on so many letters, or find the
time to write them.