The radiant star in the East had done its work. It had guided the shepherds and the Wise Men to the manger where the heavenly Child lay in Mary’s arms. The people who had watched its light with solemn wonder, whispering to one another about its beauty and meaning, had gone to their rest.
Then, suddenly, in the eastern sky, the great star broke apart. Its glorious light scattered into millions of shining points, and a shower of silver and gold drifted down to the earth below.
An old man with a long white beard witnessed the wonder. “The star in the East has gone!” he sighed. “The glory of the skies has vanished!”
Morning came. Happy children ran out to the fields to gather flowers, and found the sunny meadows glittering with hundreds of little star-shaped blossoms — white and perfect, as though sprinkled there by some invisible hand.
“How beautiful!” the children cried, clapping their hands with joy. “Let us gather some and bring a gift to the Mother and the little Babe!”
They filled their arms with the starry blossoms and set off for the manger. On the way they passed the old man. He stopped and looked at them — at their bright faces and their armfuls of flowers — and a strange light came into his eyes. He bowed his head and whispered, “The star of Bethlehem has burst into blossoms. The glory of the skies has come to abide on earth.”
