' way with the child that she held to her bosom. How would any
mother have felt; how would any mother's heart beat and soul faint
within 'em as they plodded away on a donkey, knowin' that the swiftest
horses of the king wuz mebby follerin' clost behind? But it wuz all
past now; under the shade of this noble old tree Mary sot down,
happiness in her tired eyes, ontold relief in the weary heart on which
the Child leaned.

I believe they laid down there under the starry heavens and went to
sleep; mebby the Star shone down on 'em as they slep', seein' they wuz
safe now and Herod couldn't touch 'em even if he wuz clost to 'em.

Egypt, blessed be thy turf and thy skies forever more, since thou hast
sheltered the Lord!

And while back in Jerusalem the blood-thirsty soldiers wuz rushin' to
and fro seekin' for the young Child that they might destroy him, and
in his palace King Herod lay in troubled sleep under the close-drawn
curtains of the royal couch, slaves watchin' outside the room, slaves
watchin' his fearful thorn-strewn pillow, the little Child that he
feared and sought to destroy, slept with the clear midnight sky
bendin' over his sweet slumber, its matchless blue curtain looped up
with stars, hung with the great silver night lamp of the crescent
moon. His bed-chamber the broad plains and mountains and valleys of
the world Which should yet own his peaceful sway. His guard the
shining angels that had flown down to herald His coming on the fields
of Bethlehem. Sleep well, little Child, with thy kingdom outstretched
about thee, the hull grief-smitten world, upon which thou wast to lay
thy hands and heal its woes and wounds. The divine clothin' itself in
the sad garments of humanity that it might lift it up into heavenly
heights.

Well, we stayed there quite a spell. Robert, I could see, felt a good
deal as I did and so did Dorothy; I read in her sweet eyes the tender
light that meant many things. But Miss Meechim had doubts about the
tree. She looked all round it, and felt of the low, droopin' branches
and looked clost at the bark. She is a great case for the bark of
things, Miss Meechim is, you know some be. They will set their
microscopes on a little mite of bark and argy for hours about it, but
don't think of the life that is goin' on underneath. The divine
vitality of truth that animates the hidden soul of things. They think
more of the creeds, the outward husks of things than the inside life
and truth. Miss Meechi