The strange
and glorious song continued all the night; and all that night the
angels walked to and fro, and the shepherd-folk talked with the
angels, and the stars danced and carolled in high heaven. And it was
nearly morning when the cedars cried out, "They are coming to the
forest! the angels are coming to the forest!" And, surely enough, this
was true. The vine and the little tree were very terrified, and they
begged their older and stronger neighbors to protect them from harm.
But the cedars were too busy with their own fears to pay any heed to
the faint pleadings of the humble vine and the little tree. The
angels came into the forest, singing the same glorious anthem about
the Child, and the stars sang in chorus with them, until every part of
the woods rang with echoes of that wondrous song. There was nothing in
the appearance of this angel host to inspire fear; they were clad all
in white, and there were crowns upon their fair heads, and golden
harps in their hands; love, hope, charity, compassion, and joy beamed
from their beautiful faces, and their presence seemed to fill the
forest with a divine peace. The angels came through the forest to
where the little tree stood, and gathering around it, they touched it
with their hands, and kissed its little branches, and sang even more
sweetly than before. And their song was about the Child, the Child,
the Child that had been born. Then the stars came down from the skies
and danced and hung upon the branches of the tree, and they, too, sang
that song,--the song of the Child.
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