  When the Christmas-tide drew nigh, On a shelf three candles bright, Two were red and one was white, Waited for who came to buy. Said the first one, "I shall be Chosen for a Christmas-tree!" Said the second, "I shall light Christ Jesus on His way to-night!" Then the third one sighed, "Ah me, I know not what my lot will be!" When the dark fell, bright and gay The first candle burned away, Red as all the berries red On the holly overhead, While the children in their glee Danced around the Christmas-tree. And the second, twinkling bright, Poured forth all its golden light Through a window decked with green Garlands and red ribbons' sheen, So the Christ-child when He came Might be guided by its flame. But the third one in the gloom Of a bare and cheerless room Softly burned where long had lain A poor little child in pain, And the baby in its bed By the light was comforted. When the Christ-child passed that night All three candles gave Him light, But the brightest was the spark By the baby in the dark. THE END |
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