"Old St. Nicholas,"
The Bishop of Myra in Asia Minor Who Was the Gracious Giver, by Eben
Reflections on the Old Norwegian Calendar, the Primstav
Old St. Nicholas at this late date?
Why "N" and Cross
O Primstav, speak out and relate
How Myra’s bishop in Asia Minor Had a heart to help the poor.
‘Tis long ago, yet men remember
This early saint each 6th, December.
A thousand years, and more, have passed,
Yet Nicholas won fame to last.
Who came to church in cold or heat.
Faithful too, their bishop’s eye
Marked each falling tear and sigh.
For soon their father, penniless,
Must send them out in deep distress.
Poverty makes cruel claim
To fix on purest virtue blame!
Maidens thrust then on the street
Just for crusts of bread to eat,
Seldom found a husband then,
Their young lives lost to vice and sin.
But He who marks a sparrow’s fall
(After all, He died for all!)
Put his heart in Nicholas,
While circumstances cried, “Alas!”
Many prayers the maidens prayed
Till hope at last began to fade.
But on the day they had to go
Something flew in their window.
The father stooped to pick it up,
And gold spilled out, as from a cup!
Twice more, the window again gave,
bags of gold, each maid to save.
Now with joy the father blessed
His daughters all with very best--
Arrayed in silken gown and veil,
And dowry next could much avail.
From beggary to married life,
The three sisters gained place as wife. Customs set so grim back then,
Yet could bless them with good men.
And before long infants came
To be baptized in Jesus’ Name.
No doubt the mothers wept with joy
To see his hand bless girl or boy.
For who else but their good bishop
Had turned their lives from down to up?
The Primstav’s mum, no story told.
But let me make one humble guess,
What the bishop may confess.
He turned to treasure laid in trust,
To save it from the moth or rust.
“Better build in flesh, not bone,
And invest in living stone
That outlasts marble, Caesar’s own--
This flock of Christ’s that’s mine on loan.”
So Myra kept a crumbling church,
On which the stork had made her perch.
No gilt would ever make it shine
From dome to door--a vision fine.
However he had got much gold,
He’s credited with being bold.
Help one poor, and you get heaped
With multitudes--on you they’ve leaped!
No, unafraid of sheer mercy,
The bishop gave most cheerfully.
I’ve traveled far, old Myra’s gone,
But Christlike deeds live on and on.
