All…Father；　and　Saviour　of　mankind。　　Fairer　is　He　than　Baldur
  the　Beautiful；　greater　than　Odin　the　Wise；　kinder　than　Freya
  the　Good。　　Since　He　has　come　to　earth　the　bloody　sacrifice
  must　cease。　　The　dark　Thor；　on　whom　you　vainly　call；　is　dead。
  Deep　in　the　shades　of　Niffelheim　he　is　lost　forever。　　His
  power　in　the　world　is　broken。　　Will　you　serve　a　helpless　god？
  See；　my　brothers；　you　call　this　tree　his　oak。　　Does　he　dwell
  here？　　Does　he　protect　it？〃
  A　troubled　voice　of　assent　rose　from　the　throng。　　The
  people　stirred　uneasily。　　Women　covered　their　eyes。　　Hunrad
  lifted　his　head　and　muttered　hoarsely；　〃Thor！　take　vengeance！
  Thor！〃
  Winfried　beckoned　to　Gregor。　　〃Bring　the　axes；　thine　and
  one　for　me。　　Now；　young　woodsman；　show　thy　craft！　　The
  king…tree　of　the　forest　must　fall；　and　swiftly；　or　all　is
  lost！〃
  The　two　men　took　their　places　facing　each　other；　one　on
  each　side　of　the　oak。　　Their　cloaks　were　flung　aside；　their
  heads　bare。　　Carefully　they　felt　the　ground　with　their　feet；
  seeking　a　firm　grip　of　the　earth。　　Firmly　they　grasped　the
  axe…helves　and　swung　the　shining　blades。
  〃Tree…god！〃　cried　Winfried；　〃art　thou　angry？　　Thus　we
  smite　thee！〃
  〃Tree…god！〃　answered　Gregor；　〃art　thou　mighty？　　Thus　we
  fight　thee！〃
  Clang！　clang！　the　alternate　strokes　beat　time　upon　the
  hard；　ringing　wood。　　The　axe…heads　glittered　in　their　rhythmic
  flight；　like　fierce　eagles　circling　about　their　quarry。
  The　broad　flakes　of　wood　flew　from　the　deepening　gashes　in
  the　sides　of　the　oak。　　The　huge　trunk　quivered。　　There　was　a
  shuddering　in　the　branches。　　Then　the　great　wonder　of
  Winfried's　life　came　to　pass。
  Out　of　the　stillness　of　the　winter　night；　a　mighty　rushing
  noise　sounded　overhead。
  Was　it　the　ancient　gods　on　their　white　battlesteeds；　with
  their　black　hounds　of　wrath　and　their　arrows　of　lightning；
  sweeping　through　the　air　to　destroy　their　foes？
  A　strong；　whirling　wind　passed　over　the　treetops。　　It
  gripped　the　oak　by　its　branches　and　tore　it　from　the　roots。
  Backward　it　fell；　like　a　ruined　tower；　groaning　and　crashing　as
  it　split　asunder　in　four　great　pieces。
  Winfried　let　his　axe　drop；　and　bowed　his　head　for　a　moment
  in　the　presence　of　almighty　power。
  Then　he　turned　to　the　people；　〃Here　is　the　timber；〃　he
  cried；　〃already　felled　and　split　for　your　new　building。　　On
  this　spot　shall　rise　a　chapel　to　the　true　God　and　his　servant
  St。　Peter。
  〃And　here；〃　said　he；　as　his　eyes　fell　on　a　young　fir…tree；
  standing　straight　and　green；　with　its　top　pointing　toward　the
  stars；　amid　the　divided　ruins　of　the　fallen　oak；　〃here　is　the
  living　tree；　with　no　stain　of　blood　upon　it；　that　shall　be　the
  sign　of　your　new　worship。　　See　how　it　points　to　the　sky。　　Call
  it　the　tree　of　the　Christ…child。　　Take　it　up　and　carry　it　to
  the　chieftain's　hall。　　You　shall　go　no　more　into　the　shadows
  of　the　forest　to　keep　your　feasts　with　secret　rites　of　shame。
  You　shall　keep　them　at　home；　with　laughter　and　songs　and　rites
  of　love。　　The　thunder…oak　has　fallen；　and　I　think　the　day　is
  coming　when　there　shall　not　be　a　home　in　all　Germany　where　the
  children　are　not　gathered　around　the　green　fir…tree　to　rejoice　in
  the　birth…night　of　Christ。〃
  So　they　took　the　little　fir　from　its　place；　and　carried　it
  in　joyous　procession　to　the　edge　of　the　glade；　and　laid　it　on
  the　sledge。　　The　horses　tossed　their　heads　and　drew　their　load
  bravely；　as　if　the　new　burden　had　made　it　lighter。
  When　they　came　to　the　house　of　Gundhar；　he　bade　them　throw
  open　the　doors　of　the　hall　and　set　the　tree　in　the　midst　of
  it。　　They　kindled　lights　among　the　branches　until　it　seemed　to
  be　tangled　full　of　fire…flies。　　The　children　encircled　it；
  wondering；　and　the　sweet　odour　of　the　balsam　filled　the　house。
  Then　Winfried　stood　beside　the　chair　of　Gundhar；　on　the
  dais　at　the　end　of　the　hall；　and　told　the　story　of　Bethlehem；
  of　the　babe　in　the　manger；　of　the　shepherds　on　the　hills；　of
  the　host　of　angels　and　their　midnight　song。　　All　the　people
  listened；　charmed　into　stillness。
  But　the　boy　Bernhard；　on　Irma's　knee；　folded　in　her　soft
  arms；　grew　restless　as　the　story　lengthened；　and　began　to　prattle
  softly　at　his　mother's　ear。
  〃Mother；〃　whispered　the　child；　〃why　did　you　cry　out　so
  loud；　when　the　priest　was　going　to　send　me　to　Valhalla？〃
  〃Oh；　hush；　my　child；〃　answered　the　mother；　and　pressed　him
  closer　to　her　side。
  〃Mother；〃　whispered　the　boy　again；　laying　his　finger　on
  the　stains　upon　her　breast；　〃see；　your　dress　is　red！　　What　are
  these　stains？　　Did　some　one　hurt　you？〃
  The　mother　closed　his　mouth　with　a　kiss。　　〃Dear；　be　still；
  and　listen！〃
  The　boy　obeyed。　　His　eyes　were　heavy　with　sleep。　　But　he
  heard　the　last　words　of　Winfried　as　he　spoke　of　the　angelic
  messengers；　flying　over　the　hills　of　Judea　and　singing　as　they
  flew。　　The　child　wondered　and　dreamed　and　listened。　　Suddenly
  his　face　grew　bright。　　He　put　his　lips　close　to　Irma's　cheek
  again。
  〃Oh；　mother！〃　he　whispered　very　low；　〃do　not　speak。　　Do
  you　hear　them？　　Those　angels　have　come　back　again。　　They　are
  singing　now　behind　the　tree。〃
  And　some　say　that　it　was　true；　but　others　say　that　it　was
  only　Gregor　and　his　companions　at　the　lower　end　of　the　hall；
  chanting　their　Christmas　hymn：
  All　glory　be　to　God　on　high；
  And　on　the　earth　be　peace！
  Good…will；　henceforth；　from　heaven　to　man；
  Begin　and　never　cease。
  End