Oh! the snow, the

beautiful snow. Filling the sky and

earth below. Over the housetops, over

the street. Over the heads of the people

you meet— Dancing—flirting—skimming

alongBeautiful snow! it can do 110

wrong, Flying to kiss a fair lady's

cheek. Clinging to lips in frolicsome

freak. Beautiful snow from heaven above.

Pure as an angel, gentle as love! Oh!

the snow, the beautiful snow, How the

flakes gather and laugh as tliey go,

Whirling about in maddening fun. It

plays in its glee with every one

Chasing—laughing—hurrying liy— It light6

011 the face, and it sparkles the eye;

And the dogs with a bark and a hound

Snap at the crystals as they eddy round.

The town is alive, and its heart is

aglow, To welcome the coming of

beautiful snow! How wild the crowd goes

swaying along, Hailing each other with

humour-and song; How the gav sleighs

like metcoft flash by, ltiight for a

moment, then lost to the eye:

Ringing—swinging—dashing they go, Over

the crust of the beautiful snow— Snow so

pure when it falls from the sky, To be

trampled in mud by the crowd passing by.

To be trampled and tracked by thousands

of feet, Till it blends with the fiith

in the horrible street. Once I was pure

like the snow, hut I fell— I'ell like

the snow—ljut from heaven to ncll; Fell

to be trampled as filth of the street,

Fell to he scoffed, to he spit on and

heat; Pleading—cursing—dreading to die.

Selling my soul to whoever would buy;

Dealing in shame for a morsel of bread.

Hating the living, and fearing the dead.

Merciful God! have I fallen so low? I

And yet I was once like the beautiful

6now. j Once I was fair as the beautiful

snow, | With an eye like a crystal, a

heart like its glow; j Once I was loved

for tny innocent grace, ! Flattered and

sought for the charms of my face; |

Father—mother— sisters—all— I God and

myself, I have lost by my fall; j The

veriest wretch that goes shivering by I

Will make a wide stfeen lest I wander

too nigh, j For all that is on or about

me, I know, j There is nothing that's

pure as the beautiful snow. How strange

it 6liould be that this beautiful snow

Should fall 011 a sinner with nowhere to

go! How strange it should be, when the

night comes again, If the snow and the

ice struck my desperate brain. If

fainting, freezing, dying alone, Too

wicked for prayer, too weak for a moan

To be beard in the streets of the crazy

town (Gone mad in the joy of the snow

coming down), I should lie down and die

in iny terrible woe. With a bed and a

shroud of the beautiful snow. Helpless

and foul as the trampled snow, Sinner

despair not! Christ stoopeth low To

rescue the soul that is lost in sin, To

raise it to life and enjoyment again.

Groaning—bleeding—dying for thee, The

Crucified hung on the cursed tree! His

accents of pity fall soft on tliinc ear;

"Is there mercy for me? Will he heed my

weak prayer? Oh, God! in the stream

tliat for sinners did flow. Wash me. and

I shall be whiter than snowl