POETRY. BEAUTIFUL SNOW. Oh! the

snow, the beautiful snow, Filling the

sky and the earth below ! Ov«r the

housetops, over the street, Over the

heads of people you meet, Dancing—

flirting— skimming along, Beautiful snow

! it can do no 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

enow, How the flakes gather and laugh as

they go : Whirling about in their

maddening fun, It plays in its glee with

every one ; Chasing — laughing— hurrying

by, It lights iip the face and it

sparkles the eye ; And the dogs with a

bark and a bound Snap at the crystals as

they eddy around j The town is alive and

its heart in a glow, To welcome the

coming of beautiful snow. Hew wildly the

crowd goes swaying along, Hailing each

other with humor and song ; How the gay

sleighs like meteors flash by, Bright

for a 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

As to make one regret to see it lie, To

be trampled and tracked by the 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

snowflakes, from heaven to hell, Fell to

be trampled as filth in the street, Fell

to be scoffed, spit on, 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 ? And yet I

was once like the beautiful snow. Once I

was fair as the beautiful snow, With an

eye like a crystal and a heart like its

glow ; Once I was loved for my innocent

grace, Flattered and sought for the

charms of my face! Father, mother, and

sisters all, God and myself, £ have lost

by fall ; The veriest wretch that goes

shivering by Will make a wide sweep lest

I wander toa nigh. For all that is on or

before me I know There's nothing so pure

as the beautiful \ snow. How strange it

should be that this beautiful snow

Should fall on a sinner with nowere to

go ! flow strange it should be when the

bight 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,

Goue mad in the joy of the 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 soul

that is lost in its sin, And to raise it

to life and enjoyment again. Groaning —

bleeding — dying for thee, The Crucified

hunjr on the accursed tree ! His accents

of mercy fell soft on thine ear. Is

there mercy for me ? Will He heed my

?weak prayer? Oh God ! in the stream

that for sinners did flow Wash me, and I

shall be whiter than snow.