Ever and anon men came with the Master to the forest, and sat with Him in the shade of the tree, and talked with Him of matters which the tree never could understand; only it heard that the talk was of love and charity and gentleness, and it saw that the Master was beloved and venerated by the others.  It heard them tell of the Master’s goodness and humility,—­how He had healed the sick and raised the dead and bestowed inestimable blessings wherever He walked.  And the tree loved the Master for His beauty and His goodness; and when He came to the forest it was full of joy, but when He came not it was sad.  And the other trees of the forest joined in its happiness and its sorrow, for they, too, loved the Master.  And the angel always hovered near.

The Master came one night alone into the forest, and His face was pale with anguish and wet with tears, and He fell upon His knees and prayed.  The tree heard Him, and all the forest was still, as if it were standing in the presence of death.  And when the morning came, lo! the angel had gone.

[Illustration:  “They are killing me!” cried the tree.]

Then there was a great confusion in the forest.  There was a sound of rude voices, and a clashing of swords and staves.  Strange men appeared, uttering loud oaths and cruel threats, and the tree was filled with terror.  It called aloud for the angel, but the angel came not.

“Alas,” cried the vine, “they have come to destroy the tree, the pride and glory of the forest!”

The forest was sorely agitated, but it was in vain.  The strange men plied their axes with cruel vigor, and the tree was hewn to the ground.  Its beautiful branches were cut away and cast aside, and its soft, thick foliage was strewn to the tenderer mercies of the winds.

“They are killing me!” cried the tree; “why is not the angel here to protect me?”

But no one heard the piteous cry,—­none but the other trees of the forest; and they wept, and the little vine wept too.

Then the cruel men dragged the despoiled and hewn tree from the forest, and the forest saw that beauteous thing no more.

But the night wind that swept down from the City of the Great King that night to ruffle the bosom of distant Galilee, tarried in the forest awhile to say that it had seen that day a cross upraised on Calvary,—­the tree on which was stretched the body of the dying Master.

STAR OF THE EAST

    Star of the East, that long ago
      Brought wise men on their way
    Where, angels singing to and fro,
      The Child of Bethlehem lay—­
    Above that Syrian hill afar
    Thou shinest out to-night, O Star!

[Illustration: 
    To seek that manger out and lay
      Our gifts before the child—­
    To bring our hearts and offer them
    Unto our King in Bethlehem!
]