“Ready for Christmas,” she said with a sigh,
As she gave a last touch to the gifts piled high,
Then wearily sat for a moment and read,
Till soon, very soon, she was nodding her head.
Then quietly spoke a voice in her dream,
“Ready for Christmas? What do you mean?
Ready for Christmas when only last week
You wouldn’t acknowledge your friend on the street.
“Ready for Christmas, while holding a grudge?
Perhaps you had better let God be the judge,
Why, how can the Christ-child come and abide
In the heart that is selfish and filled with pride?
“Ready for Christmas when only today
A beggar lad came and you turned him away
Without even a smile to show that you cared?
The little he asked – it could have been spared.
“Ready for Christmas? You’ve worked, it is true,
But just doing the things that you wanted to do.
Ready for Christmas? Your circle’s too small –
Why, you are not ready for Christmas at all!”
She awoke with a start and a cry of despair,
“There’s so little time and I’ve still to prepare.
O Father, forgive me, I see what You mean,
To be ready means more than a house swept clean.”
Yes, more than the giving of gifts and a tree,
It’s the heart swept clean that He wants to see;
A heart that is free from bitterness, sin –
Ready for Christmas – and ready for HIM.
A revised version
of the poem by:
Alice Hansche Mortenson
Then shall the King say unto them on his right hand,
Come, ye blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the
foundation of the world: For I was an hungred, and ye gave me meat: I was
thirsty, and ye gave me drink: I was a stranger, and ye took me in: Naked,
and ye clothed me: I was sick, and ye visited me: I was in prison, and ye
came unto me.
Then shall the righteous answer him, saying, Lord, when saw we
thee an hungred, and fed thee? or thirsty, and gave thee drink? When saw we
thee a stranger, and took thee in? or naked, and clothed thee? Or when saw
we thee sick, or in prison, and came unto thee?
And the King shall answer
and say unto them, Verily I say unto you, Inasmuch as ye have done it unto
one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.
No Room in the Inn
Words: A. L. Skilton.
Music: “Carter,” E. Grace Updegraff (1871-1964)
No beautiful chamber, no soft cradle bed,
No place but a manger, nowhere for His head;
No praises of gladness, no thought of their sin,
No glory but sadness, no room in the inn.
No room, no room, for Jesus,
O give Him welcome free,
Lest you should hear at Heaven’s gate,
“There is no room for thee.”
No sweet consecration, no seeking His part,
No humiliation, no place in the heart;
No thought of the Savior, no sorrow for sin,
No prayer for His favor, no room in the inn.
No one to receive Him, no welcome while here,
No balm to relieve Him, no staff but a spear;
No seeking His treasure, no weeping for sin,
No doing His pleasure, no room in the inn.
Trenholms of Kelowna
Looking Unto Jesus Backgrounds and Prints
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