Let pagan mistletoe hang in the hall,
And holly with its prickles and its bright
Vermilion berries grace the festive scene.
What if festoons of paper drape the wall
And fairy lamps bedeck with elfin light
The spruce tree with its pins of forest green?
If laughter rings too shrill and voices call
One to another in a wild delight,
Be not dismayed and think that this can mean
A bland indifference to the Bethlehem stall.
The Babe who came that night so long ago,
Created stars and holly, stones and trees;
Made too, the hearts that laugh, the eyes that glow;
And gave himself to save the least of these.