"At Christmas," by Edgar Albert Guest

As as child I remember whenever I was required to visit the doctor's office (Dr. King's office, to be precise), I'd have the opportunity to peruse several pictures that included some pretty fascinating poetry.  My mother over the years has given me books of some of that poetry, and I have to admit reading them brings back some fond feelings of my childhood in Millington, TN.  One of the poets that I remember discovering in that quaint little office was a man named Edgar Albert Guest. 

I remember seeing a couple of his poems on the walls of that office, and I've since come to appreciate a number of his works.  The one below is a personal favorite about Christmas.  In it Guest elaborates on how a person responds to the "Christmas spirit" and how it can cause a change in a person's life.  The poem puts into my mind the image of a reformed Scrooge, fresh off his encounters with the ghost of Christmas, now engaging faithfully to live a less self-focused life. 

I know that times have changed, and I realize that people do not always have "Christmas cheer" at this time of year.  Nonetheless, my prayer for all of us is that we become the people God intended us to be, especially now as we celebrate the Advent of our Lord Jesus.  I hope this poem blesses you!

Thanks for reading!

At Christmas by Edgar Albert Guest

A man is at his finest towards the finish of the year; 
He is almost what he should be when the Christmas season is here; 
Then he’s thinking more of others than he’s thought the months before, 
And the laughter of his children is a joy worth toiling for. 
He is less a selfish creature than at any other time; 
When the Christmas spirit rules him he comes close to the sublime. 

When it’s Christmas man is bigger and is better in his part; 
He is keener for the service that is prompted by the heart. 
All the petty thoughts and narrow seem to vanish for awhile 
And the true reward he’s seeking is the glory of a smile. 
Then for others he is toiling and somehow it seems to me 
That at Christmas he is almost what God wanted him to be. 

If I had to paint a picture of a man I think I’d wait 
Till he’d fought his selfish battles and had put aside his hate. 
I’d not catch him at his labors when his thoughts are all of pelf, 
On the long days and the dreary when he’s striving for himself. 
I’d not take him when he’s sneering, when he’s scornful or depressed, 
But I’d look for him at Christmas when he’s shining at his best. 

Man is ever in a struggle and he’s oft misunderstood; 
There are days the worst that’s in him is the master of the good, 
But at Christmas kindness rules him and he puts himself aside 
And his petty hates are vanquished and his heart is opened wide. 
Oh, I don’t know how to say it, but somehow it seems to me 
That at Christmas man is almost what God sent him here to be.