WINTER SABBATH WALK. How dazzling white the snowy scene! deep, deep The stillness of the winter Sabbath day,— Not even a foot-fall heard. Smooth are the fields, Hid are the bushes, save that here and there The flickering fall is o'er: the clouds disperse, And shew the sun, hung o'er the welkin's verge, Shooting a bright but ineffectual beam Now is the time On all the sparkling waste. To visit nature in her grand attire; Though perilous the mountainous ascent, But let me now explore the deep sunk dell. No foot-print, save the covey's or the flock's, Is seen along the rill, where marshy springs Still rear the grassy blade of vivid green. Beware, ye shepherds, of these treacherous haunts, Nor linger there too long: the wintry day Soon closes; and full oft a heavier fall, Heaped by the blast, fills up the sheltered glen, While, gurgling deep below, the buried rill Mines for itself a snow-coved way. O, then, Your helpless charge drive from the tempting spot, And keep them on the bleak hill's stormy side, Where night winds sweep the gathering drift away: So the great Shepherd leads the heavenly flock Of life, where long they bear the bitter blast, Bedimmed with showers: Then to the pastures green |