Mary put a sprig of bayberries in her slender hand and replied, “Rather, Susanna, ask what your babe will give to the new land. He will give his strength and his faith and his youth. Give him to me a moment.” And she bore him up to the company. “Friends,” she said, “I bring to you another Christmas gift. I bring to you a new citizen, born in the land of the free with no heritage of oppression and cruelty.” “A citizen! A citizen! It is an omen!” they cried, and little Peregrine White was handed around and admired while the Pilgrims sang, with lusty voices, the good old English carol, “Unto us a child is born.” Susanna White, lying there in her lowly bed, heard and marveled and was content. And so the gifts were passed, that first Christmas in 1620. They reveled in things of the soul rather than the body. They counted their tale of gifts and they were good. The clear, sparkling water; the seed corn, precious as jewels; the beginning of the free, fair homes; the new citizen, the little pilgrim; and the great gift of self-government and the freedom to worship according to the dictates of their consciences and to deepen and expand the living faith. But the greatest gift of all is the mighty nation that has sprung from their loins. They have multiplied as the stars of the heavens and as the sand which is on the seashore. As the children of peace, they have received peace, and the divine blessing rests upon them. TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES: Italicized text is surrounded by underscores: _italics_. Obvious typographical errors have been corrected. Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized. Archaic or alternate spelling has been retained from the original.