Make the Most of Every Christmas Morning
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the poem as
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Make the most of every Christmas morning
Even when the weather's not so clear.
Riches come and go with little warning,
Rendered only to what souls are there.
Yet some would spend their Christmas at hard labor,
Choosing to ignore the gifts of grace,
Having much, though little that they savor,
Resigned to serve the lords of time and place.
In Christmas there is work and there is pleasure,
So interfused one cannot separate
The labor from the loving, common treasure
Made from giving, much beloved weight,
A burden and a blessing both, that one
Should relish till the precious day is done.
Copyright by Nicholas Gordon