Oh 1 the snow, the
beautiful snow, FiUing the sky and earth
below, Over the housetops, over the
street, Over the heads of tne people you
meet ; Dancing — Flirting — Skimming
along. Beautiful snow ! it can do no
wrong ; x lying to mso & zftir jauy s
C1109&9 Clinging to lipB in frolicsome
freak ; Beautiful snow from heaven
above, Pure as hn angel, gentle as'love
! Oh 1 the snow, the beautiful snow, How
the flakes gather iuid laugh as they go,
Whirling about m maddening fun ; Chasing
— Laughing — Hurrying by. It lights on
the face,- and it sparkles the eye ; And
the dogs with a'bark ana a bound Snap at
the crystals as they eddy around; The
town is alive and its heart in a glow,
To weloome the coming of beautiful snow
! How wild the crowd goes swaying along,
Hailing each other with, humour and song
: How the gav sleighs like meteors flash
by, Bright for the moment, then lost to
the eye ; Hinging— Swinging— Dashing
they go Over the crust of the beautiful
snow : Snow so pure when it falls from
the sky, To be trampled and tracked by
thousands of feet, Till it blends with
the filth in the horrible street. Once I
was pure as the snow, but I fell, Fell
like the snow flakes from heaven to hell
; , Fell to be trampled as filth on the
street, Fell to be scoffed, to be spit
on, and beat ; 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 P And yet I was once
like the beautiful snow. Once I was fair
as the beautiful snow, With an eye like
a crystal, a heart like its glow ; Once
I was loved for my innocent grace —
Flattered and sought for the charms of
my face ! Fathers — Mothers — Sisters,
all, God and myself 1 have lost by my
fall ; The veriest wretch that goes
shivering by Will make a wide sweep test
I wander too nigh ; For all that is on
or above me I know, There is nothing so
pure as the beautiful snow. How strange
it should be that this beautiful snow
Should fall on a sinner with nowhere to
go P How strange it should be when the
night comes again, If the snow and the
ice struck my desperate brain, Fainting
— Freezing— Dying alone, Too wicked for
prayer, too weak for a moan To be heard
in the streets of the crazy town, Gone
mad in the joy of snow coming down , To
be and to die in my 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 bouI that is lost in sin,
And raise it to life and enjoyment
again. Groaning — Bleeding — Dying for
thee, The ciucilied hung on the cursed
tree ! His accents of mercy fell soft on
thine ear, 'Is there mercy for me? Will
He heed my weak prayer P ' t O God ! in
the stream that for sinners did flow, I
Wash me, end I shall be whiter than snow