come to us as a little child, like any other child. We thank God that in
the lesser sense we may see in every child who comes to-day another
incarnation of divinity. We thank God for the portion of His Spirit with
which He dowers every child of man, just as we thank Him for pouring it
all upon the Infant in the Manger.

There is no age that has not had its prophet. No country, no people, but
that has produced its leader. But did any of them ever before come as a
little child? Did any of them begin to lead while yet in arms? Lodges
there upon any other baby brow "the round and top of sovereignty?" What
distinguished Christ and His Christian followers from all the world?
Behold! no mighty monarch, but "a little child shall lead them!"

You may see through the glass darkly, you may not know or understand
the blessedness of faith in Him as He would have you know it, but there
is nothing that can dim the light that radiates from that birth in the
rude cave back of the inn. Ah, it pierces through the darkness of that
shrouding night. It shines to-day. Still sparkles the Star in the East.
He is that Star.

There is nothing that can take from mankind--even doubting mankind--the
spirit of Christ and the Christmas season. Our celebrations do not rest
upon the conclusions of logic, or the demonstrations of philosophy; I
would not even argue that they depend inevitably or absolutely upon the
possession of a certain faith in Jesus, but we accept Christmas,
nevertheless; we endeavour to apply the Christmas spirit, for just once
in the year; it may be because we cannot, try as we may, crush out
utterly and entirely the divinity that is in us that makes for God. The
stories and tales for Christmas which have for their theme the hard
heart softened are not mere fictions of the imagination. They rest upon