Christmas 1941 comes to a world where there is scant peace, where men search the skies for portents — not of joy but of death and where men of goodwill are, as were the simple Judean shepherds long ago, “sore afraid.”

Happily, there is no blackout of the Christmas star here — no shrieking sirens interrupt the joyful music of Christmastide, no bursting of bombs. Yet, our rejoicing is not without an undertone of fear. All are hoping for the best, anticipating eventual triumph of the right, but not without the realization that the future is clouded.

The spirit of Christmas, however, does not die — not in any land, not among the adherents of any creed, not forever in any human heart.

For those of Christian faith, Christmas marks the birth of One who counseled “love your enemies.” Christmas has reverential names in all languages.

The spirit of Christmas is abroad the narrower boundaries of religion and race fall away. “Glory to God in the Highest!” sang the angels and good will toward men. Ancient and profound, this emotion is in all along in every tongue, in every creed, the spirit of Christmas.

Although clouded by the hates of war, twisted and battered by men’s efforts to accommodate the divine message to their own ideals, the song which the herald angels sang over Bethlehem remain the goal toward which an enlightened humanity has always striven. No darkness has ever been black enough to extinguish the wonderful light that has kindled that night long ago in a stable in Bethlehem.