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From Logan Witness (Beenleigh, Qld. : 1878 - 1893)

1879-11-22 |

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Oh ! the snow, the

beautiful «now, Filling

tne'^cj/andjaariobeloir, -Vver the

bopejops, iver : the slpeei, Orer the

heeds or tie people 76a meet; Dancing

Flirting Skimming along. Beautiful

:sBo?r.1 . It -an;-U-BO wrong!

Flj\ngtoJrissafflirl«dj!eol(cek, .,

Clinging tolipB 'in frolicsome freak j

BeaotifuJ.snbiT.from henvenabove. Pore

as an aiigjl, gentle as lore I Oh 1 the

snow, the beautiful snow, How the flakes

gather and laugh as -they - go, ' - ? .

? Whirling abont in maddening fan ; '

Chasing -Laughing Hurrjing by. It

lights on the faoe, and it sparkles the

eye; ? .: And the dogs with a bark and a

bound Snap at the crystals as they eddy

arouud ; The-town is alive and iis heart

in a glow, To welome the coming of

beautiful snow I How mid the crowd goes

swaying along, ' Hailing each other with

humor and song ; How the gay sleighs

like meteors flash by, Bright for the

moment, then lost to the ' JV*! ?

Ringing Stringing Dashing they go

Orer the jcrosi of the b antifnl snow ;

bnow ao pare when it falls from the sky,

. To be trampled and tracked by

thousands of.foet, Till it blendi with

the filth in the horrible ?teat. Once I

Ira* pure ai the snow, but I fell, Fell

like the mow flakes from heaven to hell;

Fell to be trampled aa filth on the

street, Fell to bo scoffed, to be spit

on, and beat ; Pleading Cursing

Dreading to die, Selling my soul to

whoever would toy ; Dealing In ename for

a morsel of bread, Hating the living and

fearing the dead. Merciful Uod, have I

fallen so low ? And yet I was once like

the beautiful snuw. Once I was fair as

the beautiful snow, With an ejre like a

crystal, a heart a like its glow ; Onoe

I was lored for my innocent grace

Flattered and sought for the charms of '

my Tact! Fathers Mothers Sisters, all,

God and myself I have lost by my fail ;

The veriest wretch that goes shrinking

by Will make a wider sweep lest I wander

too nigh ; For all that is on or above

me I know, There is nothing ao pure as

the beautiful snow. How strange it

should be that this beautiful anhwShould

Should Tall on a sinner wilh nowhere to

go ; How strange it should be when the

night oomes again, If the snow and the

icj struck my desperate brain,Fainting

Fainting Freezing Dying alone, Too'

wicked for prayer, too weak for a moan

To he heard in the streets of the crazy

town, Hone mad in the joy of Bnow coming

down, To l« and to die in my terrible

woe, With a bed and a rhrond of the

beantifnl anow. - ? Helpless and foul as

the trampled snow, Sinnrr, despair sot !

Olirist ttoopeth low To reset cthe soul

that is lost in sin, . And rase it to

life and enjoyment again. Growing HI ed

Tig Dying for ihi% The Crucified hung

on the cursed tree I His accents of

mercy fell soft on thineear, 11 It there

mercy for me ? will he need my weak

prayer?' 0 Go*! in the stream that for

sinners did flow, Wash mf, anil I shall

be whiter than snow