Let us remember that the Christmas heart is a
giving heart, a wide open heart that thinks of
others first. The birth of the baby Jesus stands
as the most significant event in all history,
because it has meant the pouring into a sick world
of the healing medicine of love which has
transformed all manner of hearts for almost two
thousand years... Underneath all the bulging
bundles is this beating Christmas heart.
-George Mathhew Adams
There is no ideal Christmas; only the one
Christmas you decide to make as a reflection of
your values, desires, affections, traditions.
Christmas waves a magic wand over this world, and behold, everything is softer and more beautiful.
Somehow, not only for Christmas, But all the long
year through, The joy that you give to others, Is
the joy that comes back to you. And the more you
spend in blessing, The poor and lonely and sad,
The more of your heart's possessing, Returns to
It was always said of him, that he knew how to
keep Christmas well, if any man alive possessed
the knowledge. May that be truly said of us, and
all of us! And so, as Tiny Tim observed, "God
Bless Us, Every One!
Christmas, children, is not a date. It is a state
Perhaps the best Yuletide decoration is being
wreathed in smiles.
If there is no joyous way to give a festive gift,
give love away.
Time was with most of us, when Christmas Day,
encircling all our limited world like a magic
ring, left nothing out for us to miss or seek;
bound together all our home enjoyments,
affections, and hopes; grouped everything and
everyone round the Christmas fire, and make the
little picture shining in our bright young eyes,
Why does Scrooge love Rudolph the Red-Nosed
Reindeer? Because every buck is dear to him
What is Christmas? It is tenderness for the past,
courage for the present, hope for the future. It
is a fervent wish that every cup may overflow with
blessings rich and eternal, and that every path
may lead to peace.
Many banks have a new kind of Christmas club in
operation. The new club helps you save money to
pay for last year's gifts.
Happy, happy Christmas, that can win us back to
the delusions of our childhood days, recall to the
old man the pleasures of his youth, and transport
the traveler back to his own fireside and quiet
Are you willing to believe that love is the
strongest thing in the world - stronger than hate,
stronger than evil, stronger than death - and that
the blessed life which began in Bethlehem nineteen
hundred years ago is the image and brightness of
the Eternal Love? Then you can keep Christmas.
The magi, as you know, were wise men - wonderfuly
wise men who brought gifts to the Babe in the
manger. They invented the art of giving Christmas
I do come home at Christmas. We all do, or we all
should. We all come home, or ought to come home,
for a short holiday - the longer, the better -
from the great boarding school where we are
forever working at our arithmetical slates, to
take, and give a rest.
It comes every year and will go on forever. And
along with Christmas belong the keepsakes and the
customs. Those humble, everyday things a mother
clings to, and ponders, like Mary in the secret
spaces of her heart.
I will honor Christmas in my heart, and try to
keep it all the year.
Christmas is a race to see which gives out first -
your money or your feet.
The joy of brightening other lives, bearing each
others' burdens, easing other's loads and
supplanting empty hearts and lives with generous
gifts becomes for us the magic of Christmas.
The best of all gifts around any Christmas tree:
the presence of a happy family all wrapped up in
Whatever else be lost among the years, Let us keep
Christmas still a shining thing: Whatever doubts
assail us, or what fears, Let us hold close one
day, remembering Its poignant meaning for the
hearts of men. Let us get back our childlike faith
Christmas! The very word brings joy to our hearts.
No matter how we may dread the rush, the long
Christmas lists for gifts and cards to be bought
and given--when Christmas Day comes there is still
the same warm feeling we had as children, the same
warmth that enfolds our hearts and our homes.
Christmas Eve was a night of song that wrapped
itself about you like a shawl. But it warmed more
than your body. It warmed your heart... filled it,
too, with a melody that would last forever.
Peace on earth will come to stay, When we live
Christmas every day.
Christmas is a time when everybody wants his past
forgotten and his present remembered.
What I don't like about office Christmas parties
is looking for a job the next day.
There's nothing sadder in this world than to awake
Christmas morning and not be a child.
I wish we could put up some of the Christmas
spirit in jars and open a jar of it every month.
Christmas ... is not an eternal event at all, but
a piece of one's home that one carries in one's
And the angel said unto them, "Fear not! For,
behold, I bring you tidings of great joy, Which
shall be to all people. "For unto you is born this
day in the city of David A Saviour, which is
Christ the Lord. And this shall be a sign unto
you: Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling
clothes, Lying in a manger.
From Home to home, and heart to heart, from one
place to another.
The warmth and joy of Christmas, brings us closer
to each other.
A Christmas shopper's complaint is one of
Heap on the wood!-the wind is chill; But let it
whistle as it will, We'll keep our Christmas merry
Until one feels the spirit of Christmas, there is
no Christmas. All else is outward display--so much
tinsel and decorations. For it isn't the holly, it
isn't the snow. It isn't the tree not the
firelight's glow. It's the warmth that comes to
the hearts of men when the Christmas spirit
Bless us Lord, this Christmas, with quietness of
mind; Teach us to be patient and always to be
From the Editorial Page of The New York Sun, written by Francis P. Church, September 21, 1897
We take pleasure in answering thus prominently the communication below, expressing at the same time our great gratification that its faithful author is numbered among the friends of The Sun:
"Dear Editor--I am 8 years old.
Virginia, your little friends are wrong. They have been affected by the scepticism of a sceptical age. They do not believe except they see. They think that nothing can be which is not comprehensible by their little minds. All minds, Virginia, whether they be men's or children's are little. In this great universe of ours man is a mere insect, an ant, in his intellect, as compared with the boundless world about him, as measured by the intelligence capable of grasping the whole of truth and knowledge.
Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus. He exists as certainly as love and generosity and devotion exist, and you know that they abound and give to your life its highest beauty and joy. Alas! how dreary would be the world if there were no Santa Claus! It would be as dreary as if there were no Virginias. There would be no child-like faith then, no poetry, no romance to make tolerable this existence. We should have no enjoyment, except in sense and sight. The eternal light with which childhood fills the world would be extinguished.
Not believe in Santa Claus! You might as well not believe in fairies! You might get your papa to hire men to watch in all the chimneys on Christmas eve to catch Santa Claus, but even if you did not see Santa Claus coming down, what would that prove? Nobody sees Santa Claus, but that is no sign that there is no Santa Claus. The most real things in the world are those that neither children nor men can see. Did you ever see fairies dancing on the lawn? Of course not, but that's no proof that they are not there. Nobody can conceive or imagine all the wonders there are unseen and unseeable in the world.
You tear apart the baby's rattle and see what makes the noise inside, but there is a veil covering the unseen world which not the strongest man, nor even the united strength of all the strongest men that ever lived, could tear apart. Only faith, fancy, poetry, love, romance, can push aside that curtain and view and picture the supernal beauty and glory beyond. Is it all real? Ah, Virginia, in all this world there is nothing else real and abiding.
No Santa Claus! Thank God! he lives, and he lives forever. A thousand years from now, Virginia, nay, ten times ten thousand years from now, he will continue to make glad the heart of childhood.
Christmas is not a time nor a season, but a state
of mind. To cherish peace and goodwill, to be
plenteous in mercy, is to have the real spirit of
A Christmas candle is a lovely thing; It makes no
noise at all, But softly gives itself away; While
quite unselfish, it grows small.
Christmas--that magic blanket that wraps itself
about us, that something so intangible that it is
like a fragrance. It may weave a spell of
nostalgia. Christmas may be a day of feasting, or
of prayer, but always it will be a day of
remembrance--a day in which we think of everything
we have ever loved.
Christmas is the season for kindling the fire of
hospitality in the hall, the genial flame of
charity in the heart.
Don't expect too much of Christmas Day. You can't
crowd into it any arrears of unselfishness and
kindliness that may have accrued during the past
The merry family gatherings-- The old, the very
young; The strangely lovely way they Harmonize in
carols sung. For Christmas is tradition time--
Traditions that recall The precious memories down
the years, The sameness of them all.
He who has no Christmas in his heart will never
find Christmas under a tree.
The rooms were very still while the pages were
softly turned and the winter sunshine crept in to
touch the bright heads and serious faces with a