Palestine today are very grave and only great wisdom, unselfishness and patience will solve them. After trying in vain to warm ourselves over our small wood stove we put on our heavy coats and stepped out upon our little balcony. There was no moon. Save for a light over the Jaffa gate and soft rays from the windows of our hotel, Jerusalem was dark. The narrow little street at our left was black. The stars were clear, sparkling, very near. One star seemed larger and brighter than all the rest. As if unconscious of my presence my friend sang softly: “O little town of Bethlehem, How still we see thee lie! Above thy deep and dreamless sleep The silent stars go by. Yet in thy dark streets shineth, The everlasting Light; The hopes and fears of all the years Are met in thee tonight.” We hurried to our beds with their gay colored hangings and lay buried under blankets and rugs for warmth. For a long time, gazing out into the darkness, I could see the star. O little town of Bethlehem! Small indeed—but spreading over all the earth. Only a few days before in America millions of children had heard its story, hugged their precious gifts, and thought of the angels and the shepherds. Thousands of parents, forgetting the pressure of dull gray days, filled with problems of food, clothing and shelter had smiled upon their own children and thought tenderly of the Child, and many men and women without a child to love remembered the days of their own childhood and greeted each other with “Merry Christmas.” Small indeed—but I had heard the children of Japan with beaming faces sing its story; I had heard the youth of China with strong, beautifully serious faces tell of white gifts to be given in the name of the Child who found His way into the world out there on the hilltop of Judea; in India I had heard the story told by a girl whose face shone in the telling, as rows and rows of little dark faces looked up at her. I knew that in the sands of African deserts, in the snows of Arctic lands, in the farthermost islands of the sea, they had heard of Bethlehem. A long line of familiar words surged through my mind—democracy, freedom, liberty, justice for all, the brotherhood of man, love—as women may say it in Christian lands: ... how many of them were also born with Him that night in Bethlehem! No, “thou Bethlehem in the land of Judah art not the least among the princes of Judah, for out of thee shall come a ruler ... and his name shall be called Wonderful, Counsellor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.” The wounded, hungry, puzzled world—the memory of the sufferings I had looked upon pressed hard upon me. I closed my eyes to pray that men may have the courage so to love and the faith so to act that the Prince may soon come into the possession of His kingdom.