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 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 1 the

snow, the beautiful snow, How the flakes

gather and laugh as they go, Whirling

about in maddening inn. Chastening —

Laughing— Hurrying by. It lights on the

faoe and sparkles the eye, And the dogs

with a bark and a bound Snap at the

crystals as they eddy around ; The town

is alive and its heart's in a glow To

welcome the oomlng of Beautiful Snow.

Once I was as pure as the snow, bat I

fell — Fell like thesnow 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 will buy, Dealing in

shame for a morsel of bread. Hating the

living, and fearing the dead. Merciful

God, have I fallen so low ! And yetj I

was onoe like the Beautiful Snow. Once I

was fair as the Beautiful Snow, With an

eye likeacrystal.aheartlike itsglow ;

Once I was loved for my innocent grace —

Flattered and songUtf or the charms of

my faoe; Fathers— Mothers— Sisters,

allGod and myself I have lost by my fall

; The veriest wretch that goes shivering

by Will make a wide sweep leat I wander

too nigh ; For all that is on or above

me I know. There is nothing so pureasthe

Beautiful Snow. How strange it should be

that this Beautiful Snow Should fall on

a sinner with nowhere to go ; How

strange it should be when the night

comes again If the snow aud 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

mud in the joy of snow coming down, To

Ue aud to die in my terrible woe Witha

bedandashrouilof the Beautiful Snow.

Helpless and foul as the trampled snow,

Sinner, despair not ! Christ atoopeth

low, To rescue the soul that is lost in

sin, And raise it to life and enjoyment

again. Groaning— Bleeding— Dying for

thee, The Crucified hung on the cursed

tree ; His accents of mercy fall soft on

thine ear, 'Is there mercy for me? will

He heed my weak prayer !' O God ! in the

stream that for sinners did flow Wash

me, and I shall be whiter than mow.