The Christmas Thing
A Christmas Poem by Jane Merchant

My grandmother sat
On Christmas morning
Mending overalls.
A tall tree glittered,
A hen was roasting,
And the room was merry
With dolls and balls,
So why was she mending
Overalls?
The air is magic
On Christmas morning
And it isn't a time
For doing chores.
We had given her
A brooch that glittered
After anxious searchings
Of ten cent stores
So why was she working
At everyday chores?
I didn't know then
But I learned much later
That Christmas magic
Goes through and through
The fabric of living
Love, threading her needle,
Made mending
The Christmas-thing to do.

Christmas Is a Time for Love and Fun 

Christmas is a time for love and fun,
A time to reshape souls and roots and skies,
A time to give your heart to everyone 
Freely, like a rich and lavish sun,
Like a burning star to those whose lonely sighs
Show need of such a time for love and fun. 

For children first, whose pain is never done,
Whose bright white fire of anguish never dies,
It's time to give your heart to every one, 

That not one angel fall, to hatred won
For lack of ears to listen to her cries,
Or arms to carry him towards love and fun, 

Or friends to care what happens on the run
To adult life, where joy or sadness lies.
It's time to give your heart to everyone, 

For God loves all, and turns His back on none,
Good or twisted, ignorant or wise.
Christmas is a time for love and fun,
A time to give your heart to everyone. 

That Midnight Hour 

The Virgin Mother kneels upon the floor 
And holds her baby in her arm, 
Her heart is gladder than her lips can say, 
To keep her new born baby snug and warm, 
A babe more sweet and fair and dear 
Than any rose bud in the bright sunshine, 
Whose little eyes look straight into her own, 
O, blessed maid, God's son is also thine. 
Twas holy midnight, when He came to earth: 
As pours a sun ray through a limpid glass, 
Not leaving any mark upon its face; 
A drop of dew upon the fresh green grass, 
A little star that fell upon her lap, 
A cooing babe, that seeks her virgin breast. 
The hopes of all the sin-cursed world 
Upon this baby's eyelids rest. 
And ever since the midnight hour is holy, 
And millions of human hearts are stirred 
To wonderment and love for Him who came, 
To save the world, God's own incarnate Word. 
He came in darkness, He who was The Light, 
His godhead shone from clear blue baby eyes, 
The curse of earth's first sin was lifted then, 
That midnight hour reopened paradise.
 

The Gift of god 

There was seen a radiance 
Glowing one night 
Near the little maiden Mary 
In blue and white. 
"Lilies are not fairer, 
"Roses more red, 
Than the Child she sings to slumber," 
An angel said. 
So the shepherds ventured 
Through the white cold, 
And their eyes beheld the Infant, 
An hour old. 
Long they gazed and wondered, 
Awkward in awe, 
At the paramount perfection 
Within their straw. 
"Diamonds are but trifles! 
"Rubies no gem!" 
Cried the hearts that slaved for pittance 
Near Bethlehem. 
So it was forever, 
After the night 
When the little maiden Mary 
Wore blue and white. .