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BEHIND THE SCENES
I passed
a store whose window pane
displayed in colors bright
Assorted scenes of Christmas
time
that filled me with delight,
For painted there were
ringing bells
and falling flakes of snow,
Poinsettia plants and holly
leaves
and sprigs of mistletoe;
A roly-poly Santa clause
waved gaily from a sled
While reindeer pulled him
through the night,
one with a nose of red;
All kinds of greeting cards
were shown,
and it appeared to me
That there was one of every
style,
with verses to agree;
Quaint homes were decorated
with
a wreath upon each door,
And cut-out scenes and
strings of lights
and candles by the score;
A snowman wore a carrot nose
and peered through coal lump
eyes
While high above his
toppered head
firecrackers lit the skies;
A Christmas tree was
pictured there,
its branches all aglow
With flashing lights and
ornaments
and artificial snow;
All sorts of toys were
strewn about,
so shiny and so new.
And presents for the grownup folks
were in the picture too;
Suspended from a mantle place
were stockings neatly
spaced,
Each filled with fruits and
candy canes
my lips could almost taste;
I saw a table amply filled
with appetizing treats
Like roasted turkeys and
baked hams
and countless kind of
sweets.
The splendor of that
window’s art
so fully held my gaze
That I soon stood before its
pane
completely in a daze;
Then suddenly a ray of light
awoke me with a its glare,
And it appeared much
brighter than
the colors painted there;
From where it came, I seemed
at first
unable to decide,
Then, on the surface of the
paint
a scratch I soon espied;
"There’s something
hid behind this scene
of Christmas
pageantry,"
I thought, as I peered
through the scratch
to see what it could be,
And through that tiny
opening
much smaller than my eye,
I saw a star of magnitude
within an evening sky;
I scratched the paint a
little more
and peered through once
again;
A host of angels hovered low
while tidings they did say;
With eager curiosity
I wiped more paint away;
I saw a town of days of old
and of another land;
I saw the adoration of
a lowly shepherd band;
With anxious hands I quickly
rubbed
more paint away again,
And then I saw a stable room
beneath a crowded inn,
And in that stable’s
meager light
I saw a mother there;
Her eyes were filed with
tenderness,
her lips with thankful
prayer;
I saw three wise men of the
east
bowed in humility
As they presented treasures
to
someone I could not see;
I knew that more was hid
behind
this painted Christmas
scene;
I had to see it all and soon
had wiped the window clean;
And when at last my eyes
could see
that hidden scene with ease,
With humble heart and
praising tongue,
I fell upon my knees;
I saw a baby sleeping there
upon a bed of hay,
The shadow of this
sinner’s cross
was falling where he lay.
ŠJ. G. Braddock Sr |
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