A long a weary march the year has been,
And fraught with forks and fear along the way,
Yet Christmas Snow is falling, soft and sweet.
Though pricks and pins of joy we each have seen,
Still oftener sorrow shadows close of day—
A long and weary march the year has been.
“God Rest Ye” now, as flurries fly, and meet
The Lion—savage shepherd—infant made;
For Christmas Snow is falling, soft and sweet.
Hear his story, listen and believe!
We do not walk alone this weary way—
At every mile marched, he too has been.
Come rest, and laugh, and weep, and taste and see—
His story told is yours, with him your place.
Fall free on Christian rest—soft grace, snow-sweet.
Savior’s feast is spread for us to eat;
Old Winter’s wind blows brighter merry flames!
For long and weary is the year indeed—
Yet Christmas snow soft-speaks Eternity.