The First Christmas Tree
The Birthday of Christ once more is near,
A time for gladness, peace and good cheer,
A time to be happy, a time of great joy,
For each man and woman, and each girl and boy.
But why are we filled with such great mirth?
Because on that day, Christ came to earth,
To seek and save and set us free,
That we might live eternally.
So on Christmas Day, if you could roam,
To city or town, to church, or home,
You’d see everywhere both young and old,
Who’d gathered to hear the story retold,
And too in their midst for all to see,
Pretty and bright is a Christmas Tree.
Today we would think it crude and bare,
If we saw a church with no tree there,
And yet at one time in this our land,
In our churches dear, no tree did stand.
But how did it start? Is what you ask,
And to tell you how, that is my task.
Eighteen fifty-one, on Christmas night,
When the sun was down and the stars shown bright,
Ohio was the state, Cleveland’s the town,
It was not then a place of renown.
Luth’ran Pastor Schwan, stood at Zion’s door,
And greeted his flock, a hundred or more,
As each would enter, they’d stand and stare,
They could not believe, what they saw there.
For up in the front before them all,
Stood a Christmas Tree, so green and tall.
Of course it was nice, they did agree,
And yet was their church the place for that tree?
As the Pastor walked up between his throng,
A child’s whispered voice came as a song,
“Mother look!” it said delightfully,
“The Pastor’s got from heaven a tree.”
As the service went on, he then read again,
The e’er new story, Christ came to men,
And it seemed to him that never before,
Had he seen such joy in days of yore.
But all was not peace, as it should be,
The townspeople said, “A heathenish tree.”
“Bowing before shrubs,” said some one too.
“It’s sacrilegious, What shall we do?”
“The law cannot help, much to our woe.”
“To worship is free, that we all know.”
“But this we can do,” on quickly said,
“The law cannot make us buy their bread,
Not their shoes, nor meat, nor of their wood,
And if they’re not hired, they’ll soon be good.”
As the days passed by and Sunday came,
The Pastor could see, things weren’t the same.
When church was over, the protests rose,
That the townspeople all were now their foes.
They call us heathen just for that tree,
Another one said, “My boss fired me.”
The tree was then taken protectingly,
To a near back yard where none could see.
And as time heals wounds, thus it did here.
Yet the Pastor was filled with doubt and fear.
He wondered perhaps the Christmas tree,
Did not fit at all with Christmas glee.
So he wrote to friends, trying to find,
Some very good facts to ease his mind.
And soon he received from far and near,
Letters which told him, “Be of good cheer.”
“In this land its true, its seldom seen.”
“But in other lands, its always been.”
And then too one day, a friend did tell,
In near Wooster town, it was known well.
And so Pastor Schwan called news men in,
Told them the stories and proved it no sin.
“In Wooster,” he said, “They sang this song.”
And as he did sing, they sang along.
“O Christmas Tree, O Christmas Tree,
How sturdy God hath made thee,
Thou bidst us all place faithfully,
Our trust in God unchangingly.”
A very fine tale, they all did agree,
And all of them said, “We’ll too have a tree.”
And after they left, there came the word,
Of an old, old myth, a friend had heard.
Which said, on the night our Lord was born,
In stable so small, dark and forlorn,
That all creatures came to Bethlehem,
Yes, even the trees journeyed to Him,
But one tiny tree, a spruce so small,
Because of its size, was hid by all.
The stars looked down and saw its plight,
And covered the tree, till it shone bright.
And when the child, saw this lighted tree,
He smiled on it, made it blessed you see.
And that’s the story as it is told,
Of the First Christmas tree in days of old,
And tonight it stands all lighted so bright,
To help us remember the first Holy Night,
When angels came down and sang to men,
“The Savior is born, peace on earth again.”