December 23rd, 2002
Robin Rhyme sent this poem with a message:
This popular, beloved poem by Helen Steiner Rice appeared years ago in the
book, Christmas Blessings. The story of The
Christmas Guest was a folktale attributed to Father Martin.
It was written originally by Ruben Salliens and retold by Leo
Tolstoy. Helen's Grandmother Beiri often related the story to
Helen as a young child. Helen adapted the story and expressed
it in poetic form. She titled it "The Story of The Christmas Guest."
Whether you've heard it a hundred times, or this is your first, this
touching and cherished favorite is sure to warm your heart this Christmas
Season."
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The Story of The Christmas Guest By Helen Steiner Rice
And they found his shop so meager and mean,
And Conrad was sitting with face a-shine
And said, "Old friends, at dawn today,
The Lord appeared in a dream to me
So I've been busy with feet astir,
The table is spread and the kettle is shined
And now I will wait for my Lord to appear
His step as He nears my humble place,
So his friends went home and left Conrad alone,
For, long since, his family had passed away
But he knew with the Lord as his Christmas guest
And he listened with only joy in his heart.
And look for the Lord to be standing there
So he ran to the window after hearing a sound,
Was a shabby beggar whose shoes were torn
So Conrad was touched and went to the door
And I have some shoes in my shop for you
So with grateful heart the man went away,
He wondered what made the dear Lord so late
When he heard a knock and ran to the door,
A bent, old crone with a shawl of black,
She asked for only a place to rest,
But her voice seemed to plead, "Don't send me away
So Conrad brewed her a steaming cup
But after she left he was filled with dismay
And the Lord had not come as He said He would,
When out of the stillness he heard a cry,
So again he opened his friendly door
It was only a child who had wandered away
Again Conrad's heart was heavy and sad,
So he called her in and wiped her tears
Then he led her back to her home once more
He knew that the Lord was not coming today
So he went to his room and knelt down to pray
What kept You from coming to call on me,
When soft in the silence a voice he heard,
Three times My shadow crossed your floor --
For I was the beggar with bruised, cold feet,
Three times I knocked and three times I came in,
Of all the gifts, love is the best,
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