The keen cold breath of winter
Was blowing sharply round,
And every crack and crevice
In door and shelter found.
The trees were shorn of beauty,
The edges black and bare;
And the cheery little robins
Found only scanty fare.
When hips and haws have vanish’d,
Then Master Robin comes
So boldly to our doorstep,
In search of scatter’d crumbs.
And then old Frost is busy—
Indeed, I think he loves
To nip the little fingers
That never yet wore gloves.
He seems to follow closely
Those little girls and boys,
Who’ve only bits of tippets
And tatter’d corduroys.
I know it’s very pleasant
To see the drifting snow,
When in a snug warm parlor,
Where wild winds seldom blow.
To hear the pattering rain-drops
Against the window-pane,
Or see the hoar-frost clothing
The meadow and the plain.
But it is far from pleasing
When coals are scarce and dear,
And shoes are thin and scanty,
And little toes appear.
And hands are deep in pockets,
To warm the finger-ends,
And hungry mouths are waiting
For food from loving friends.
“Ah me!” I said, whilst musing,
“How hapless is the lot
Of parents and of children
In many a humble cot!
“But God is good and gracious,
And knows the need of all,
And tenderly He listens
To those who on Him call.”
I sought a collier’s cottage
On such a wintry day,
Where a poor Sunday scholar
In helpless sickness lay.
A kind and ready welcome
I met with from the boy,
And something seemed to whisper
His heart was full of joy.
Though painful were his struggles,
And hard and short his breath,
Though life seemed slowly ebbing—
He had no fear of death.
I spoke to him of heaven
And heaven’s eternal day,
And of that precious Saviour
Who washed my sins away.
And when I spoke of heaven,
Where soon I hope to be,
“And so do I”, he answered,
“For Jesus died for ME.”
Whene’er I spoke of Jesus
Upon the cursed tree,
He said, “He died for sinners,
But, sir, He died for me.”
Long time I sat conversing
With this dear, happy youth,
So pleased to find his spirit
Rejoicing in the truth.
He seemed so calm and happy,
His heart from fears so free—
The secret of his gladness
Was “Jesus died for me.”
ML 01/06/1918