December, 1942
447
T H E K I N G ’ S BUS FN E SS
LETTER TO WARD Dear Ward: Of course I’d like to have your chum Come home with you for Christmas. Who would want A Christmas all alone? So let him come. There never was a year so lean npr gaunt But sharing made it better. He can sleep Where Richard would have slept; and we will let The tender old traditions that we keep Each year at Christmastime help him forget. Perhaps the quiet beauty of this home, - Where Christ has been so long an honored Guest, Will touch his heart; and his young feet that roam So glibly after pleasure, end their quest—* Finding He is enough. And that would ■ be Something for now—and for eternity. MOTHER,
SCENE IV. Same room. Mother silent ly reads letter from son in Army service oversea^. A young man, invisible to the audience, reads aloud: LETTER FROM RICHARD Dear Mom: 1 love you. It is raining here— It’s made a. little puddle in my tent You always liked the rain: It brings you near. This isn’t much like home, but I’m content. Last night a fellow died, and, Mom, I had A chance to talk to,him about the Lord; He smiled, and understood, and was; I glad For all the years you fed us on the Word! • jpM The things we sbe are sometimes pretty tough: I’m glad to think of you ail safe at home. Don’t worry though, for Jesus Christ’s enough For any kind of testing that may come. (It’s strange how much more true that seems to be Hère in the center of such tragedy.) It will be Christmas when you get. this note. I see the room, the window, the church spire, And you, in black, with cream lace at your throat, And Father heaping wood upon the fire. O, Mom, I shall be with you—never doubt— In that bright room, where once I worked and played: There is no distance that can shut me out From all the simple beauty you have made. You have a task that no one else can do; * . Stick to it, Mom, though empires rise and fall. Life’s battles are not won by some thing new— *- The' product of our human thinking —all We need, or shall need—if we live or die— Is just the old Faith that you raised us by. RICHARD. Reader: (A woman). MOTHER’S PRAYER Lord, I am satisfied tonight to be A mother in a world gone mad with hate. Here, in this hour of earth’s agony, [ Continued on Page 479]
Where' bombs are bursting and the sky is rent With everything but anthems? Do you dare Remember it is Christmas? I have sent The fruit cake that you love, and some small things— Just to remind you of the former years. O, Son, the very sending of them brings Such t poignant thoughts that I am , close to tears. But I’ll not cry: You would not have , me to— You, who are strong and beautiful and brave; • I will remember, as I know you do, That neither time, nor space, nor yet the grave, Are final. conquerors: Naught has sufficed ' To separate us from the love of Christ. MOTHER. LETTER TO KATHIE Dear Kathie: You are sound asleep in bed ' Upstairs, and why I’m writing I don’t know— Except that it would fuss you if I said These same things to your face. I love you so! You are so gay. Youth is a priceless thing: Laughter and love and light—all these—are poured Into your precious childhood. Kathie, bring Your young enthusiasm to the Lord, And let Him make it something strong and fine To heal a broken world. I’ll'drop this in The bottom of your stocking. By no sign Will you acknowledge it—except to grin And wink at me—but, dear, I’ll under- v stand That means, “O.K. Mom” , . . Kathie, you are grand! MOTHER. (She finishes the letters and pre pares to mail them when a messenger enters and delivers to her a letter from one of her children—the soldier son.)
Carol .LETTER TO CAROL
Dear Carol: On a Christmas long ago You came to be a glad song in our lives; That song is silenced, and I miss it so, For Africa is far. The lone heart strives To voice its longing, but there is no word: And yet I would not call you from your place, So long as there is one that has not heard The glad sweet story of redeeming grace. “Songs in the night” He gives us. You will be Just that, to hearts bewildered by earth’s night— A lovely carol, helping them to see His face, as I see yours—untouched by fright, Undaunted by disaster, calm and still— Safe in the center of His blessed will. MOTHER. LETTER TO RICHARD % Dear Richard: Is it Christmas over there
* Richard
Kathie
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