And oh! how the depths of his spirit were stirred By thoughts that were born of the music he heard! How cold were the winds, and they sang in their strife, Of storms yet to come in the winters of life. They mocked him, but mark how the faith of the child Stood firm as a fortress, its hope undefiled; For still the boy thought that, if Santa Claus knew How great were their needs and their comforts how few, He would come; and at length, when the first rays of light Had fathomed the infinite depths of the night, And brightened the windows, Joe cautiously crept Out of bed: and he dressed while his mother still slept, And down the long stairways on tiptoe he ran; Then out in the snow, with the will of a man, He went, looking hither and thither, because, Poor boy! he was trying to find Santa Claus. He hurried along through the snow-burdened street As if the good angels were guiding his feet; And as the sun rose in the heavens apace, A radiance fell on his uplifted face That came from the cross gleaming far overhead-- A symbol of hope for the living and dead. A moment he looked at the great house of prayer, Then slyly peeked in to see what was there; And entering softly he wandered at will Through pathways of velvet, deserted and still, And saw the light grow on a wonderful scene Of ivy-twined columns and arches of green, And back of the rail, where the clergyman knelt, He sat on the cushions to see how they felt. How soft was that velvet he stroked with his hand! But when he lay down, oh, the feeling was grand! And while he was musing the walls seemed to sway, And slowly the windows went moving away. What, ho! there he comes! with his big pack and all, Down the sunbeams that slope from the high-windowed wall, And Joe tried to speak, but could not, if he died, When Santa Claus came and sat down by his side. "A tenement boy! humph! he probably swears." (Joe trembled, and tried hard to think of his prayers.) He lifted Joe's eyelids, he patted his brow, And said. "He is not a bad boy, anyhow." But hark! there is music; a deep-swelling sound Is sweeping on high as if heavenward bound. And suddenly waking, Joe saw kneeling there The rector, long-robed, who was reading a prayer. "Provide for the fatherless children," said he "The widowed, the helpless, the bond and the free." The rector stops praying--his face wears a frown; A ragged young gamin is pulling his gown. "I knowed you would come," said the boy, half in fright-- "I knowed you would come--I was watchin' all night. Say! what are ye goin' t'give mother an' me? Le'me see what 'tis, Santa Claus--please le'me see!" The rector looked down into Joe's honest face, And a great wave of feeling swept over the place;