A Riddle for Christmas

Here is a riddle for you to solve. It comes from England of the 8th Century A.C. when riddles were very popular. Can you figure out who or what is the "I", in this poem?

An enemy took my life away;
Took away my natural strength;
Soaked me by dipping me in water;
Took me out again,
And put me in the sun:
I quickly lost any hairs I had.

Next I felt the edge of the knife,
All my imperfections were ground away.
Fingers folded me over,
A bird's feather, lightly drawn over me
With useful drops of liquid,
All over my brown landscape,
Swallowed some tree-dye, mixed with water;
Then walked over me again, leaving dark tracks.

The hero then put cloth boards over me
To protect me.
He stretched animal's skin over me,
And decorated me with gold.
Goldsmiths with all their skill bound me round
With wire, and covered me with decoration.

Now my red dye, and all my decoration,
My gorgeous workmanship
Tell everyone everywhere
About the Lord of Hosts;
About not grieving over foolish sins.

If men will use me well,
Then they will be in better health;
They will win battles,
Have courage, joyful minds
And wiser minds.

They will have more friends;
Their families and their near relations
Will be true and good,
Kinder and more faithful.

All these folks will bring them greater glory;
Make them happier,
Bring blessings on them;
Do good deeds for them
And acts of kindness.

They will all embrace each other in friendly affection.

Now say who I am,
I am useful for men,
My name is famous,
A blessing for men,
And holy, too.

Answer to riddle: elbiB ehT
Another riddle? No; read it backwards.

Jesus is Born

A Native-American Account

This account of the Nativity was given in the Huron language, spoken by a group of Native Americans in what is now Canada.

It was winter and all the birds had flown south. Choirs of angels, sent by Gitchi Manitou (God), were heard in the skies instead, high in the heavens, their brillant light putting to shame the very stars. What were they singing?
"Jesus, your King, is born, in excelsis gloria!" It was heard by hunters tracking game by night.
Marvelling at what they heard, they searched and searched and in a crudely constructed lodge made of the bark of trees, they came upon the little Babe. His Mother had covered him warmly in a wrap made of rabbit skins, setting off his shining face. The hunter braves, approaching, heard the song:
"Jesus, your King, is born, Jesus is born!"

Seeing the glory of that fair, round, shining face, the hunters found it brighter and lovelier than the fullest winter moon.
Chieftains came from near and far to kneel before the Babe, bringing gifts of furs from fox and beaver. "O children of the forest, O sons of Manitou, the Holy Child of earth and heaven is born for you today," sang the angels, "Come kneel before this radiant Boy, who brings you comfort, peace and joy!"