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The Cobbler and His Guest
There lived in the city of Marseilles, a hundred
years ago, an old shoemaker, loved and honored by
all his neighbors, who affectionately called him "Father
Martin."
One Christmas he sat alone in his little shop, reading
of the visit of the wise men to the infant Jesus,
and of the gifts they brought, and he said to himself,
"If tomorrow were the first Christmas, and if
Jesus were to be born in Marseilles this night, I
know what I would give him!" He arose and took
from a shelf two little shoes of softest snow-white
leather, with bright silver buckles. "I would
give him these, my finest work. How pleased his mother
would be! But I'm a foolish old man," he thought,
smiling. "The Master has no need of my poor gifts."
Replacing the shoes, he blew out the candle and retired
to rest. Hardly had he closed his eyes, it seemed,
when he heard a voice call him name. "Martin!"
Intuitively, he felt aware of the identity of the
speaker. "Martin, you have longed to see me.
Tomorrow I shall pass by your window. If you see me
and bid me enter, I shall be your guest and sit at
your table."
He did not sleep that night for joy. Before it was
yet dawn, he arose and tidied up his little shop.
Fresh sand he spread on the floor, and green boughs
of fir he wreathed along the rafters. On the table
he placed a loaf of white bread, a jar of honey, a
pitcher of milk; and over the fire he hung a hot drink.
His simple preparations were complete.
When all was in readiness, he took up his vigil at
the window. He was sure he would know the Master.
As he watched the driving sleet and rain in the cold,
deserted street, he thought of the joy that would
be his when he sat down and broke bread with his guest.
Presently, he saw an old street sweeper pass by, blowing
upon his thin, gnarled hands to warm them. Poor fellow!
He must be half frozen, thought Martin. Opening the
door, he called out to him, "Come in, my friend,
and get warm, and drink something hot." No further
urging was needed, and the man gratefully accepted
the invitation.
An hour passed, and Martin next saw a poor, miserably
clothed woman carrying a baby. She paused, wearily,
to rest in the shelter of his doorway. Quickly, he
flung open the door. "Come in and get warm while
you rest, " he said to her. "You are not
well?" he asked.
"I am going to the hospital. I hope they will
take me and my baby in/" she explained. "My
husband is at sea, and I am ill, without a soul to
whom I can go."
"Poor child!" cried the old man. "You
must eat something while you are getting warm. No?
Let me give a cup of milk to the little one. Ah! What
a bright, pretty little fellow he is! Why, you have
no shoes on him!"
"I have no shoes for him," sighed the mother.
"Then he shall have this lovely pair I finished
yesterday." And Martin took down the soft little
snow-whte shoes he had looked at the evening before,
and slipped them on the child's feet. They fit perfectly.
Shortly, the young mother went her way full of gratitude,
and Martin went back to his post at the window.
Hours after hour went by, and many needy souls shared
the meager hospitality of the old cobbler, but the
expedited guest did not appear.
At last, when night had fallen, Father Martin retired
to his cot with a heavy heart. "It was only a
dream," he sighed. "I did hope and believe,
but he has not come."
Suddenly, so it seemed to his weary eyes, the room
was flooded with a glorious light; and to the cobbler's
astonished vision there appeared before him, one by
one, the poor street weeper, the sick mother and her
baby, and all the people whom he had aided during
the day. Each one smiled at him and said, "Have
you not seen me? Did I not sit at your table?"
and vanished.
Then softly out of the silence he heard again the
gently voice, repeating the old, familiar words, "Who
so shall receive one such little child in my name
receiveth me" (Matt. 18:5). "For I was hungereed,
and ye gave me meat; I was thirsty, and ye gave me
drink; I was a stranger, and ye took me in.
"...Verily I say unto you, inasmuch as ye have
done it unto one of the least of these my brethren,
ye have done it unto me" (Matt 25:35-40).
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