I am the Christmas Spirit.
I enter the home of poverty,
causing pale-faced children
to open their eyes wide in pleased wonder.
I cause the miser's clutched hand to relax,
and thus paint a bright spot on his soul.
I cause the aged to renew their youth
and to laugh in the glad old way.
I keep romance alive in the heart of childhood,
and brighten sleep with dreams woven of magic.
I cause eager feet to climb dark stairways with filled baskets,
leaving behind hearts amazed at the goodness of the world.
I cause the prodigal to pause a moment on his wild, wasteful ways,
and send to anxious love some little token that releases glad tears-
tears which wash away the heard lines of sorrow.
I enter dark prison cells,
reminding scarred manhood of what might have been,
and pointing forward to good days yet to come.
I come softly into the still,
white home of pain,
and lips that are too weak to speak
just tremble in silent, eloquent gratitude.
In a thousand ways I cause the weary world
to look up into the face of God
and for a little moment forget the things
that are small and wretched.
I am the Christmas Spirit.

- Author Unknown