Scarlet Snow
by Ethan J. Sanders
Along the well-tread path of Life we know so well,
That journey, destiny of all men;
By its side we see many sights, Time gives not to pen
The sad yet glorious lots too many to tell.
They are the resting places, berths of travelers
No more ever to walk abroad this old earth;
Many barren, forgotten, few clothed in mirth,
For so sparse are the victors of Eden’s curse.
In this view of lives lived and done
There comes a space, woeful, marked with defeat-
Gray with many years of ruin, Death’s lonely seat,
Hope long vanquished, his sad race run.
It seems to all his light gone out, never again to shine,
And despairing, we continue our dreary tour;
But, hark! there falls from the sky upon that desolate moor
Tiny snowflakes, of purest white, clearing that squalid mine.
Those pristine snowflakes, sent from heaven above,
Tinged with scarlet of preciously shed blood-
Washed in an instant that sorry lot of mud,
And faith in the Lamb rewarded in Love.
Such the cleansing, baptizing work of God-
That whilst we were sinners, hope long blown out,
The Lamb, Lion and Terror of Judah, won the bout
O’er sin, and our sorry tract washed, all to Him laud.
