Sentinel’s Repose


“Bah! Humbug!” The old man did say,
“It’s much, much too cold outside.
So, don’t get out the sleigh.”

His song was rusty
And his story long decayed,
The great old elf’s tone soured
And his mood had turned gray.

Many a century had gone by
Since the origins of his craft shown
With a bright shining star,
And a newborn child’s throne.

“Papa! Oh, Papa!” His small friends had cried out,
“You must not despair.”
“The joy and spirit of Christmas,
Will soon fill the air.”

“Your wishfullness and hope
Are misdirected, little ones, I see.”
“There is nothing left but war, greed and selfishness in the world,
There is no longer room for me.”

It had been a long year
More difficult than most
The patron saint of children
Felt weary of playing host.

His spirit had sullen
And his step had grown weary
Without an appetite for Christmas
His cheeks were no longer cheery.

The sentinel years took their toll
He had felt their heavy charge before.
But this year was different
It was all too much of a chore.

What would come of Christmas
If there were no Santa to display
The wondrous gifts and dressings
Memorials to the blessed child born in the hay?

Then, reminded was he,
By his Mrs.’ scornful scowl
“The import of the spirit,” she said
"Is not imprinted on a towel.”

No, not by Santa
Or the congregation of a church
But by the blessed instant
Of our savior’s birth.

Santa mused,
Ashamed of his plight.
However, the error of his mood waned
As day turned to night.

Come morning he rose
With renewed spirit and glee
Santa set a shiny bright star
Atop his savior’s Christmas tree.

And so the true gift of Christmas
Present in the warmth of our souls
May at times be misplaced
Even at the North Pole.

Which reminds us, all
Of our sacred, holy vow
To thank our Lord God
For His gift who lay resting on a bough.

So let us now join together
And sing His praises on-high
This night of sparkling wonder
The eve and prayerful nigh’.

copyright/jrg