Can any time compare to Christmas Eve,
When days of frantic shopping tours are past,
When trees are trimmed and presents gaily wrapped,
And you can breathe a happy sigh at last?
When glancing at the knobby silhouettes
Of stockings hung against the ember glow,
You reach for Santa’s milk and cookie snack
As strains of “Silent Night” play soft and low?

Is any hour so dear on Christmas Eve
As when your little flock is safe asleep,
And all alone you hear the angels’ song,
Bringing a joy you shall forever keep?
When, window-gazing past the candle-beam,
You seek a radiance the shepherds viewed
And pray all weary mothers on this night
May share the peace of this sweet interlude?

Can any moment match the worth of this,
A gift not sold in any busy mart,
This priceless moment when the holy Child
Is born anew within the quiet heart?
Now fresh upon the ear glad tidings sound,
The season’s fret and frenzy to condemn,
As neath the tree’s symbolic star you feel
You have, yourself, knelt down in Bethlehem.

Poem by Eugenia Congo

Bountiful Blessings!