STILL it is probably the one day of the year most like an old-time Sunday when the Blue Laws - "Sunday Closing" or "Sabbbath" laws for you who are too young to remember - were in force. There is a preturnatural peace in the air. Everyone who is still in town is gathered at home with family and friends.
This calm does not extend to the newspapers and radio stations, where dire predictions and strories of tragedy pour forth. A man dressed as Santa Claus, angry over a divorce, shoots up a family gathering, sets the house afire, and kills himself. Care and woe and grief know nor respect any season. Wars large and small rage on uninterrupted, corrupt and barbaric dictators repress their people, and famine and pestilence do not pause to hear the merry carollers; but these exact their toll of misery, suffering and death on those unfortunate enough to come under their sway. Still, as the Poet said:
"I heard the Bells on Christmas Day,
Their old familiar Carols play
And loud and strong, rang out the Song
Of Peace on Earth, Good Will to Men
And in Despair I bowed my Head,
"There is no Peace on Earth", I said,
"For Hate is strong, and mocks the Song
Of Peace on Earth, Good Will to Men"
THEN PEALED THE BELLS MORE LOUD AND DEEP:
"GOD IS NOT DEAD, NOR DOTH HE SLEEP"
"The Wrong shall fail, the Right prevail,
With Peace on Earth, Good will toward Men
Merry Christmas To All!