777. BEAUTIFUL SNOW
In the early part of the Civil War, one dark Saturday morning in
the dead of winter, a young woman, twenty-two years old, died at the Commercial
Hospital, Cincinnati. She had once been beautiful and the pride of respectable
parents. Highly educated and accomplished, she might have shone in the best
society. But she was stubborn and willful and would not listen to warning. She
played with fire and called it “fun.” One day she awoke to find herself ruined
by a fatal mistake which she could not erase. She was fallen.
She spent the rest of her young life in disgrace and shame, and
died poor and friendless, a broken-hearted outcast. Among her personal effects
was found in manuscript, the poem, “Beautiful Snow” which was
immediately carried to Enos B. Reed, editor of the National Union. In the
columns of that paper, on the morning following the girl’s death, the poem
appeared in print for the first time. When the paper
containing the poem came out on Sunday morning, the body of the victim had not
yet received burial. The attention of Thomas Buchanan Read, one of the first
American poets, was soon directed to the newly published lines, and was so
taken with their stirring pathos, that he immediately followed the corpse to
its final resting place.
Such are the facts concerning her whose “Beautiful
Snow” will be long regarded as one of the brightest gems in American
literature.
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.
Clinging to lips in
frolicsome freak,
Trying to kiss a fair
lady’s cheek,
Beautiful snow from
heaven above,
Pure as an angel, gentle as love.
Oh! The snow, the
beautiful snow,
How the flakes gather
and laugh as they go,
Whirling about in
maddening fun,
Cheering the heart
and dispelling the gloom.
Chasing~Laughing~Hurrying by,
It lightens the face
and sparkles the eye.
Rollicking dogs with
a bark and a bound,
Snap at the crystals
which eddy around.
The town is alive and
its heart in a glow,
To welcome the coming
of beautiful snow!
How wildly the crowd
goes swaying along,
Hailing each other
with humor and song,
How gay are the
sleighs, like the stars flashing by
Are bright for a moment, then lost to the eye.
Ringing~Swinging~Dashing they go,
Over the crest of the
beautiful snow,
Snow that’s so pure
when it falls from the sky,
That it makes one regret that it’s fated to lie
And be trampled and
muddied by thousands of feet,
‘Till it blends with the horrible filth of the 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 of the street,
Fell to be scoffed
at, 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?
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.
Father~Mother~Sisters~all,
God and myself I have
lost by my fall.
The vilest wretch
that goes shivering by,
Will make a wide
sweep lest 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!
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 the snow coming down!
To be and to die in
my terrible woe,
With a bed and a shroud of the beautiful snow.
Hopeless and foul as
the trampled snow,
Sinner, despair not,
Christ stoopeth low,
To rescue the soul
that is lost in sin,
And to 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 snow.”
GOD SAYS:
“Come now, and let us reason together, saith
the Lord: though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be white as snow; though
they be red like crimson, they shall be as wool.” (Isaiah 1:18)
“All we like sheep have gone astray; we have turned every one to
his own way; and the Lord hath laid on him the iniquity of us all.” (Isaiah 53:6)
“…the blood of Jesus Christ his Son cleanseth
us from all sin.” (1st John 1:7b)
“…for it is the blood that maketh an
atonement for the soul.” (Leviticus 17:11b)
“Lord Jesus Christ, please change my heart for my eternal good. Please create within me a heart repentant toward Thee for all my sins. Please forgive me of all my sins and wash me clean in Thy Precious Blood that Thou didst shed for me on the cross. Please grant me true faith in my Creator God to fully believe in Thee and to fully trust in Thee, Lord Jesus, as my Lord, my God, my Saviour, my First and Foremost Love, my ALL. Thank Thee, Lord Jesus, for hearing this prayer of mine. Amen!”
(Most of the time, we
have BEAUTIFUL SNOW available in tract form. Why not stuff one in each
of your Christmas cards that you send out or give out.) Ask for it from:
CHRIST IS ALL
PO Box 490
Vernon, Al 35592
USA