Once 1 was pure as the snow, but I fell—

Fell like a snowflake, Irom heaven to hell.

Fell, to be trampled as filth in the street—

Fell, to be scoffed at, spit on and beat:

Praying, cursing, whishing to die,

Selling my soul to whoever would buy,

Dealingjn shame for a morsel of bread.

Hating the living and fearing the dead.

WHERE COMFORT IS FOUNE.

Do not give up. One like unto the

Son of God comes to you today, say­

ing,