In Bethlehem is the Shepherd born.
Awake, O little lamb, and sing!"

So, dear my child, kneel at my feet,
And with those voices from above
Share thou this holy time with me,
The universal hymn of love.

December 25, 1890.

MISTRESS MERCILESS

This is to tell of our little Mistress Merciless, who for a season
abided with us, but is now and forever gone from us unto the far-off
land of Ever-Plaisance. The tale is soon told; for it were not seemly
to speak all the things that are in one's heart when one hath to say
of a much-beloved child, whose life here hath been shortened so that,
in God's wisdom and kindness, her life shall be longer in that garden
that bloometh far away.

You shall know that all did call her Mistress Merciless; but her
mercilessness was of a sweet, persuasive kind: for with the beauty of
her face and the music of her voice and the exceeding sweetness of her
virtues was she wont to slay all hearts; and this she did unwittingly,
for she was a little child. And so it was in love that we did call her
Mistress Merciless, just as it was in love that she did lord it over
all our hearts.

Upon a time walked she in a full fair garden, and there went with her
an handmaiden that we did call in merry wise the Queen of Sheba; for
this handmaiden was in sooth no queen at all, but a sorry and
ill-favored wench; but she was assotted upon our little Mistress
Merciless and served her diligently, and for that good reason was
vastly beholden of us all. Yet, in a jest, we called her the Queen of
Sheba; and I make a venture that she looked exceeding fair in the eyes
of our little Mistress Merciless: for the eyes of children look not
upon the faces but into the hearts and souls of others. Whilst these
two walked in the full fair garden at that time they came presently
unto an arbor wherein there was a rustic seat, which was called the
Siege of Restfulness; and hereupon sate a little sick boy that, from
his birth, had been lame, so that he could not play and make merry
with other children, but was wont to come every day into this full
fair garden and content himself with the companionship of the flowers.
And, though he was a little lame boy, he never trod upon those
flowers; and even had he done so, methinks the pressure of those
crippled feet had been a caress, for the little lame boy was filled
with the spirit of love and tenderness. As the tiniest, whitest,
shrinking flower ex