Standing on a corner all tattered and torn

stood a gray-haired lady, her clothes dreadfully worn.

She shivered and she trembled as the cold north winds blew,

But nobody seemed to care for the poor folk on the famous

Fifth Avenue.

It was Christmas time and the snow was peppering down.

Tears fell from her eyes when she saw the lights trimming

the town.

People were laughing and enjoying their Christmas cheer.

But no one seemed to notice the old lady standing near.

She clutched an old book tightly to her chest,

An old book she seldom ever gave a rest.

She hobbled across the icey, snowy street.

Her rain-soaked shoes frozen to her small aged feet.

A manger scene lay brightly just ahead.

Baby Jesus lay there on his little straw filled bed.

She waited patiently until all the crowds were gone.

She needed to speak with the Master all alone.

"Lord help me to always be humble,

So others needs I might see.

Don't ever let me become so proud

That I'd forget all about Calvary!"

She knelt and opened her old precious book.

Her lips quivered as she spoke and her aged body shook.

She slowly raised her crippled hands,

As she spoke to the Savior from the Holy Land.

The ground was covered the next day with snow.

Crowds of men and women scurried to and fro.

A small child stopped and climbed off his sled.

But it was too late, for the old lady was dead.