There is one musical word with, I think, perhaps the ugliest meaning in the language.  It is rancour.  Let us do away with it, let us put it aside.  If we are poor let us be brethren to the other poor, if we are rich let us be brethren to the other rich, if we are wise let us be brethren to the other wise, if we are foolish let us be brethren to the other foolish.  Ah, that is not difficult; it is an easy task.  But that is not enough.  Brotherhood is broader, thank God!  Let the poor be brethren to the rich and the rich to the poor, the wise to the ignorant, the misguided to the well-directed, the ignorant to the wise, the foolish to the discreet, the discreet to the foolish, the glad to the sorrowful, the sorrowful to the glad, the servants of the Lord to the sinners against Him!

  “Then none was for a party;
    Then all were for the state;
  Then the great man helped the poor,
    And the poor man loved the great: 
  Then lands were fairly portioned;
    Then spoils were fairly sold: 
  The Romans were like brothers,
    In the brave days of old.”

Let us make out of the old pagan ideals present-day realities in our hearts as we go even unto Bethlehem and look into the cradle of the King; realities in His own nobler and better words: 

“Jesus answered and said unto them, Go and shew John again those things which ye do hear and see:  the blind receive their sight, and the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, and the deaf hear, the dead are raised up, and the poor have the gospel preached to them.  And blessed is he whosoever shall not be offended in Me.”

Peace, goodwill toward men!  Peace to men of goodwill!  That is what the angels sang.  But there is nothing on earth to prevent us from making it our human song as well.  As we stand by the cradle of the Master and peer into the manger at that which every human being loves, a baby, our earthly differences of nationality, of rank, power, station, and influence—­things that are but the guinea’s stamp upon the gold of character and personality—­fade into insignificance and become as nothing.  The little child in life notices none of these distinctions, he marks nothing of them.  Let us come as little children before Him.  We may be war-battered, sin-marked, toil-stained, care-burdened.  Let us forget it all this Christmas morning.

It was a poor place, that manger—­the poorest place on earth—­but it was a place.  It was somewhere.  Let us give humanity even as little as a manger.  Let us not take up the Christ Child as we see Him and throw Him out into the streets, or into no man’s land.  That is what we do when we mock Him, when we deny Him, when we laugh Him to scorn.  Let us not shut Him out of His home place in our souls.  Let us not refuse to open when His hand knocks upon the door.  That is what we do when we are indifferent to Him.  Let us take him out of the manger cradle, each one of us, and enthrone Him in the most precious place we have, our inmost hearts.