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The Peace of Christmas-Time
by Eugene Field (1850-1895)

Dearest, how hard it is to say---
   That all is for the best,
Since, sometimes, in a grievous way
   God's will is manifest.

See with what hearty, noisy glee
   Our little ones to-night
Dance round and round our Christmas tree
   With pretty toys bedight.

Dearest, one voice they may not hear,
   One face they may not see---
Ah, what of all this Christmas cheer
   Cometh to you and me?

Cometh before our misty eyes
   That other little face,
And we clasp, in tender, reverent wise,
   That love in the old embrace.

Dearest, the Christ-child walks to-night,
   Bringing his peace to men,
And he bringeth to you and to me the light
   Of the old, old years again.

Bringeth the peace of long ago,
   When a wee one clasped your knee
And lisped of the morrow---dear one, you know---
   And here come back is he!

Dearest, 't is sometimes hard to say
   That all is for the best,
For, often, in a grievous way
   God's will is manifest.

But in the grace of this holy night
   That bringeth us back our child,
Let us see that the ways of God are right,
   And so be reconciled.


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