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At Christmas time, I often reflect upon one particular evening in the early 1960s. Back then, we decided to go carolling (唱圣诞颂歌) to spread the Christmas spirit which might _________ someone else’s life. So we quickly _________ members, for whom the only _________ was warmth of spirit.

Soon we discovered that carolling brought various _________. Sometimes we were greeted with open doors and open hearts, while other times, folks remained in the safety and coziness of their homes, watching _________ through their windows.

One stop on our journey particularly _________ our memory. That night, after a couple of songs, one door swung open. A gentleman, gray-haired, tenderly _________ we go upstairs to sing for his bedridden wife. He added _________, “She loves music and used to be an opera singer.”

We stepped briskly upward into the couple’s _________ apartment. Books, records, and antique furniture whispered stories to us. I reminded myself not to stare __________ invading their privacy.

Sitting beside his wife, the gentleman gave us a __________. Then our voices rose and lingered around their small home. Had our voices been given extra __________ and beauty for this occasion? Perhaps they had.

A smile flickered on the woman’s __________, yet beautiful face. She snuggled her head against her husband’s shoulder and both of them heartily enjoyed our performance. Witnessing such a heartwarming scene, we felt it was a holy night, for we were in the __________ of love that was gentle and mild.

At that moment, we found, and maybe even __________, the Christmas spirit.