their own fears to pay any heed to the faint pleadings of the humble vine
and the little tree. The angels came into the forest, singing the same
glorious anthem about the Child, and the stars sang in chorus with them,
until every part of the woods rang with echoes of that wondrous song.
There was nothing in the appearance of this angel host to inspire fear;
they were clad all in white, and there were crowns upon their fair heads,
and golden harps in their hands; love, hope, charity, compassion, and joy
beamed from their beautiful faces, and their presence seemed to fill the
forest with a divine peace. The angels came through the forest to where
the little tree stood, and gathering around it, they touched it with their
hands, and kissed its little branches, and sang even more sweetly than
before. And their song was about the Child, the Child, the Child that had
been born. Then the stars came down from the skies and danced and hung
upon the branches of the tree, and they, too, sang that song,--the song of
the Child. And all the other trees and the vines and the ferns and the
mosses beheld in wonder; nor could they understand why all these things
were being done, and why this exceeding honor should be shown the little
tree.

When the morning came the angels left the forest,--all but one angel, who
remained behind and lingered near the little tree. Then a cedar asked:
"Why do you tarry with us, holy angel?" And the angel answered: "I stay to
guard this little tree, for it is sacred, and no harm shall come to it."

The little tree felt quite relieved by this assurance, and it held up its
head more confidently than ever before. And how it thrived and grew, and
waxed in strength and beauty! The cedars said they never had seen the
like. The sun seemed to lavish its choicest rays upon the little tree,
heaven dropped its sweetest dew upon it, and the winds never came to the
forest that they did not forget their rude manners and linger to kiss the