Mark The Soft-Falling Snow

Mark The Soft-Falling Snow

Mark the soft-falling snow,

And the diffusive rain:

To heaven from whence it fell,

It turns not back again,

But waters earth

Through every pore,

And calls forth all

Its secret store.

Arrayed in beauteous green

The hills and valleys shine,

And man and beast is fed

By Providence divine;

The harvest bows

Its golden ears,

The copious seed

Of future years.

"So," saith the God of grace,

"My gospel shall descend--

Almighty to effect

The purpose I intend;

Millions of souls

Shall feel its power,

And bear it down

To millions more.

"Joy shall begin your march,

And peace protect your ways,

While all the mountains round

Echo melodious praise;

The vocal groves

Shall sing the God,

And every tree

Consenting nod."

by Philip Doddridge.