The Christmas Thorn Of Glastonbury





A LEGEND OF ANCIENT BRITAIN



ADAPTED FROM WILLIAM OF MALMESBURY AND OTHER SOURCES



There is a golden Christmas legend and it relates how Joseph of

Arimathea--that good man and just, who laid our Lord in his own

sepulcher, was persecuted by Pontius Pilate, and how he fled from

Jerusalem carrying with him the Holy Grail hidden beneath a cloth of

samite, mystical and white.



For many moons he wandered, leaning on his staff cut from a white-thorn

bush. He passed over raging seas and dreary wastes, he wandered through

trackless forests, climbed rugged mountains, and forded many floods.

At last he came to Gaul where the Apostle Philip was preaching the glad

tidings to the heathen. And there Joseph abode for a little space.



Now, upon a night while Joseph lay asleep in his hut, he was wakened

by a radiant light. And as he gazed with wondering eyes he saw an angel

standing by his couch, wrapped in a cloud of incense.



"Joseph of Arimathea," said the angel, "cross thou over into Britain and

preach the glad tidings to King Arvigarus. And there, where a Christmas

miracle shall come to pass, do thou build the first Christian church in

that land."



And while Joseph lay perplexed and wondering in his heart what answer he

should make, the angel vanished from his sight.



Then Joseph left his hut and calling the Apostle Philip, gave him the

angel's message. And, when morning dawned, Philip sent him on his way,

accompanied by eleven chosen followers. To the water's side they went,

and embarking in a little ship, they came unto the coasts of Britain.



And they were met there by the heathen who carried them before Arvigarus

their king. To him and to his people did Joseph of Arimathea preach the

glad tidings; but the king's heart, though moved, was not convinced.

Nevertheless he gave to Joseph and his followers Avalon, the happy isle,

the isle of the blessed, and he bade them depart straightway and build

there an altar to their God.



And a wonderful gift was this same Avalon, sometimes called the Island

of Apples, and also known to the people of the land as Ynis-witren, the

Isle of Glassy Waters. Beautiful and peaceful was it. Deep it lay in

the midst of a green valley, and the balmy breezes fanned its apple

orchards, and scattered afar the sweet fragrance of rosy blossoms or

ripened fruit. Soft grew the green grass beneath the feet. The smooth

waves gently lapped the shore, and water-lilies floated on the surface

of the tide; while in the blue sky above sailed the fleecy clouds.



And it was on the holy Christmas Eve that Joseph and his companions

reached the Isle of Avalon. With them they carried the Holy Grail hidden

beneath its cloth of snow-white samite. Heavily they toiled up the

steep ascent of the hill called Weary-All. And when they reached the top

Joseph thrust his thorn-staff into the ground.



And, lo! a miracle! the thorn-staff put forth roots, sprouted and

budded, and burst into a mass of white and fragrant flowers! And on the

spot where the thorn had bloomed, there Joseph built the first Christian

church in Britain. And he made it "wattled all round" of osiers gathered

from the water's edge. And in the chapel they placed the Holy Grail.



And so, it is said, ever since at Glastonbury Abbey--the name by which

that Avalon is known to-day--on Christmas Eve the white thorn buds and

blooms.





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