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On Christmas Eve, a young boy with light in his eyes, Looked deep into Santa\\'s, to Santa\\'s surprise, And said as he nestled on Santa\\'s broad knee, "I want your secret, tell it to me." Santa smiled kindly & said to the boy, "Don\\'t ask me hard questions. Don\\'t you want a toy?" But the child shook his head, and Santa could see That he needed the answer. "Now listen to me," He told the small boy with the light in his eyes, "My secret will make you sadder & wise. "My sack is magic"... The more that I give, the fuller it seems, Because giving is my way of fulfilling dreams. "And do you know something? You\\'ve got a sack, too. It\\'s as magic as mine, and it\\'s inside of you. It never gets empty, it\\'s full from the start. It\\'s the centre of lights, and of love. It\\'s your heart. The light in the small boy\\'s eyes was glowing. "Thanks for the secret. I\\'ve got to be going." "Wait, little boy," said Santa "don\\'t go." Will you share? Will you help? Will you use what you know?" And just for a moment the small boy stood still, Touched his heart with his hand and then whispered... "I will."

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Going Home For Christmas He little knew the sorrow that was in his vacant chair; He never guessed they\\'d miss him, or he\\'d surely have been there; He couldn\\'t see his mother or the lump that filled her throat, Or the tears that started falling as she read his hasty note; And he couldn\\'t see his father, sitting sorrowful and dumb, Or he never would have written that he thought he couldn\\'t come. He little knew the gladness that his presence would have made, And the joy it would have given, or he never would have stayed. He didn\\'t know how hungry had the little mother grown Once again to see her baby and to claim him for her own. He didn\\'t guess the meaning of his visit Christmas Day Or he never would have written that he couldn\\'t get away. He couldn\\'t see the fading of the cheeks that once were pink, And the silver in the tresses; and he didn\\'t stop to think. How the years are passing swiftly, and next Christmas it might be There would be no home to visit and no mother dear to see. He didn\\'t think about it -- I\\'ll not say he didn\\'t care. He was heedless and forgetful or he\\'d surely have been there. Are you going home for Christmas? Have you written you\\'ll be there? Going home to kiss the mother and to show her that you care? Going home to greet the father in a way to make him glad? If you\\'re not I hope there\\'ll never come a time you\\'ll wish you had. Just sit down and write a letter -- it will make their heart strings hum With a tune of perfect gladness -- if you\\'ll tell them that you\\'ll come

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