"God bless us every one!" prayed Tiny Tim,

Crippled, and dwarfed of body, yet so tall

Of soul, we tiptoe earth to look on him,

High towering over all.

He loved the loveless world, nor dreamed, indeed,

That it, at best, could give to him, the while,

But pitying glances, when his only need

Was but a cheery smile.

And thus he prayed, "God bless us every one!"

Enfolding all the creeds within the span

Of his child-heart; and so, despising none,

Was nearer saint than man.

I like to fancy God, in Paradise,

Lifting a finger o'er the rhythmic swing

Of chiming harp and song, with eager eyes

Turned earthward, listening--

The Anthem stilled--the angels leaning there

Above the golden walls--the morning sun

Of Christmas bursting flower-like with the prayer,

"God bless us Every One!"