557
T h e
K i n g ’ s
B u s i n e s s
December 1930
of the rich, the seemingly noble and probably-accounted wise of the earth, of whom not many are chosen as heirs of the heavenly Kingdom. From the imposing entrance of a handsome house, there issued a lovely white-haired woman and a beautiful little girl. They were followed by a footman whose shoulders bent under the bundles he carried to place in the waiting car. Though the Stranger stood in shadow, the two saw him. “ Wish the Stranger a happy Christmas, my darling,” the elder said to the child. He drew near as the happy little voice chimed, “ Oh. I do wish you a very happy Christmas.” “ What does Christmas mean to you?” The Stranger smiled his thanks with his question. “ It means that the Baby Jesus was born in Bethlehem, 1-o-n-g ago. He loved me, and came to be my Saviour. And oh, I love Him. He is my best Christmas gift, and I have some lovely ones, haven’t I, dearest?” Here a swift glance at the grandmother, who smilingly nodded. The eager little voice then went on, “ And I am His best one. We are going now to tell the poor children about Him. Will you----------------- ?” At the child’s inquiring look, her “ dearest” finished the invitation: “ Will you come with us?”—wondering at herself as she did so. She turned a moment to the chauffuer; and when she faced to hear the Stranger’s answer, he was gone. She went her way, wrapped lrTasweet, silent wonder that the child shared—wonder at the strange, new nearness of the Lord whom they both so loved—but wonder most at the voice, strangely like the voice of Him who seemed not a Stranger to her; the voice, so clear-ringing in her spirit as to seem audible to her ears, saying, “ Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these . . . ye have done it unto me. And lo, I am with you, alway.” At the foot of the stone steps that led into a splendid church building, the Stranger now halted. High aloft there gleamed a cross, and above the entrance were bla zoned the words, “ Peace on earth, good will toward men.” Through the doors that no# and again swung open there floated rare voices, hymning the birth of “ A Saviour, Christ the Lord.” The Stranger dropped, as if weary, to the step upon which he had stood; but in a moment ( Continued on page 564) Zenobia Bird’ s new story, “ Eyes in the Dark,” is already having a wide sale. What better Christmas gift could one give to a friend than a year’ s subscription to THE KING’S BUSINESS and a copy of this new book? Reduced rate, with new subscriptions only, as follows Subscription (U. S .) $1.5 O'! “ Eyes in the Dark” 1-50 l The two for $2 .50 Value $3.0()J With Canadian and foreign subscriptions, twenty- five cents should be added for postage. The magazine and the book may be sent to different addresses. THE KING’S BUSINESS 536 South Hope Street, Los Angeles, Calif. SPECIAL PREMIUM OFFER With New Subscriptions Only
was lost in her eagerness to reply. “ It is the celebration of the birth of the Saviour, sir.” “ Whose Saviour ?” came the quiet, insistent voice. Full into the face of the Stranger she looked, and joy pulsed through her answer. “ The Saviour of the world, and —my Lord and Sayiour, Jesus Christ.” The Stranger’s smile was response enough to this, so he turned again to the table. “ These, then, are His birth day cards? But His name is not on them.” “ True, sir,” she sadly assented, “and oh, how the world needs Him! I can speak o f Him to some. But so few care. And I never cared to tell them, as I do today!” The crowd, strangely held back, now surged forward, and with a low-breathed, “ You will,” the Stranger was gone. But a Presence remained to make speech and ser vice “ in His name” forever after a new delight to this faithful lover of her Lord. In the street, he paused next in his lonely walk be fore a large window through which he viewed a richly furnished room. In the middle of it stood a great tree blazing with colored lights. Around it danced two chil dren, the parents watching in evident pleasure. The little ones fell suddenly silent, and the elders, following their gaze, turned to see the Stranger in the doorway. Sur prised, the father spoke curtly: “ Who are you? What is it you want?” “ I am seeking friends,” was the gentle reply. “ You have made a mistake. Your friends do not live here.” Seemingly unaware of the father’s displeasure, the children had drawn near, and each held a hand of the stranger. “ I see,” was the quiet answer, with a smile at the children, as if belying the parental word. The smile was returned as both said together, “ Did you come to see the Christmas presents ?” “ For whom?” And here the Stranger sent a compel ling glance at the father, that yet seemed to ask grace at his hands. “ For us,” again in duet. “ But—wait.” It was the boy who dashed, as he spoke, to the tree, and as quickly came back with a choice, furry little toy dog, which he pressed into the Stranger’s hand. “ This— for you. An’—an’ it is the mos’ nicest one.” “ And I— ” began the little girl as she started toward the tree, but was stopped by the father’s voice, strangely shaken, but still cold, as he addressed the maid who had entered in response to his ring. “ Show this person to the door. And you will need to be more careful in the discharge of your duties.” Surprised but silent, the maid bowed and left the room, the Stranger following. At the outer door, which she held a moment before opening, she said in a low voice, “ A happy Christmas, sir.” “ What does Christmas mean to you?” Again the question, and again the answer that warmed the chilled heart of the questioner. “ It means that Jesus is born, sir.” I “ And what is He to you ?” The little maid bowed her head as she whispered, “ He is my Lord and Saviour.” A light that dazzled broke around her, and when her vision cleared, she was alone. But the light remained to cheer and warm through the season that, in this house, meant longer and harder hours. The Stranger continued his walk among the dwellings
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