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O suggestive those beautiful snowflakes cut loose from a place in the sky, They remind us of purity blossoms, as they flutter through space from on high; As a mantle of charity fall they on the downtrodden children of men-- Poor parchments in bundles they're huddled, not known to the author or pen. Some beautiful sign like the rainbow they bring ere they vanish away And suggest that in store for the loyal is waiting a beautiful day. And the true source from whence they are coming, we will now question not or the Hand, Because of a love-giving river designed for each beautiful land. Sometimes in despair do we wonder if ever our lot shall be cast Outside the cold storms of affliction, outside of the cold scathing blast; And when I have questioned and wondered if perhaps it should ever be so A reminder has touched on my temple--a flake of the beauti- ful snow. Why have I for life and its beauties so little a place in my heart, When I think for a moment how perfect is all, on Creation's Great Chart? And here in my own soiled temple, I drink from an old rusty cup Because I grasp not at life's bounties and will not look out or look up. Perhaps when our vision is altered, bright stars will illumine the night And the promise implied through the rainbow, will bear to our hearts brighter light. We will think of the beautiful snowflakes, as well as the sweet summer-time And space, with its storehouse of beauties, with its Ideal Keeper sublime. |
