Or, let us suppose that such a man really did exist,--a man whose character was transcendently clear and true, quiet, steady, and strong,--a man who was full of warm and tender love for all,--who was constantly doing good to others without the slightest display or self-assertion,--a man who was simple and humble,--who looked the whole world in the face and did what was right,--even though the whole respectable world of his day disapproved of him, and even though this same world attested in the most emphatic manner that he was doing what was dangerous and wicked,--a man with spiritual sight so keen that it was far above and beyond any mere intellectual power,--a sight compared to which, what is commonly known as intellectual keenness is, indeed, as darkness unto light; a man with a loving consideration for others so true and tender that its life was felt by those who merely touched the hem of his garment. Suppose we knew that such a man really did live in this world, and that the record of his life and teachings constitute the most valuable heritage of our race,--what new life it would give us to think of him, especially on his birthday,--to live over, so far as we were able, his qualities as we knew them; and to gain, as a result, new clearness for our own everyday lives. The better we knew the man, the more clearly we could think of him, and the more full our thoughts would be of living, practical suggestions for daily work. But now just think what it would mean to us if we really knew that this humble, loving man were the Creator of the universe--the very God--who took upon Himself our human nature with all its hereditary imperfections; and, in that human nature met and conquered every temptation that ever was, or ever could be possible to man; thus--by self-conquest--receiving all the divine qualities into his human nature, and bringing them into this world within reach of the hearts and minds of all men, to give light and warmth to their lives, and to enable them to serve each other;--if we could take this view of the man's life and work, with what quiet reverence and joy should we celebrate the twenty-fifth of December as a day set apart to celebrate His birth into the world! If we ourselves loved a truthful, quiet way of living better than any other way, how would we feel to see our friends preparing to celebrate our birthday with strain, anxiety, and confusion? If we valued a loving consideration for others more than anything else in the world, how would it affect us to see our friends preparing for the festival with a forced sense of the conventional necessity for giving? Who gives himself with his gift feeds three,-- Himself, his hungry neighbor, and Me."