the morning came the angels left the forest,--all but one angel,
who remained behind and lingered near the little tree. Then a cedar
asked: "Why do you tarry with us, holy angel?" And the angel answered:
"I stay to guard this little tree, for it is sacred, and no harm shall
come to it."

The little tree felt quite relieved by this assurance, and it held up
its head more confidently than ever before. And how it thrived and
grew, and waxed in strength and beauty! The cedars said they never had
seen the like. The sun seemed to lavish its choicest rays upon the
little tree, heaven dropped its sweetest dew upon it, and the winds
never came to the forest that they did not forget their rude manners
and linger to kiss the little tree and sing it their prettiest songs.
No danger ever menaced it, no harm threatened; for the angel never
slept,--through the day and through the night the angel watched the
little tree and protected it from all evil. Oftentimes the trees
talked with the angel; but of course they understood little of what he
said, for he spoke always of the Child who was to become the Master;
and always when thus he talked, he caressed the little tree, and
stroked its branches and leaves, and moistened them with his tears. It
all was so very strange that none in the forest could understand.

So the years passed, the angel watching his blooming charge. Sometimes
the beasts strayed toward the little tree and threatened to devour its
tender foliage; sometimes the woodman came with his axe, intent upon
hewing down the straight and comely thing; sometimes the hot,
consuming breath of drought swept from the south, and sought to blight
the forest and all its verdure: the angel kept them from the little
tree. Serene and beautiful it grew, until now it was no longer a
little tree, but the pride and glory of the forest.

One day the tree heard some one coming through the forest. Hitherto
the angel had hastened to its side when men approached; but now the
angel strode away and stood under the cedars yonder.

"Dear angel," cried the tree, "can you not hear the footsteps of some
one approaching? Why do you leave me?"

"Have no fear," said the angel; "for He who comes is the Master."

The Master came to the tree and beheld it. He placed His hands upon
its smooth trunk and branches, and the tree was thrilled with a
strange and glorious delight. Then He stooped and kissed the tree, and
then He turned and went away.

Many times