Hymnal: The Sacred Melodeon
Date: 1848
Compiler: A S Hayden
Publisher/Printer: A S Hayden
First Line: Now the winter has come with its cold chilling blast
Topic: <no topic given>
Writer: <no first name given> <no last name given>
Composer:
Meter: 12s and 9s
Tune: The Winter Is Come
Hymn Number: <no hymn number given>
Page Number: 229, click to see hymnal pages
LyicsNow the winter has come with its cold chilling blast,
And the verdure has dropp'd from the trees;
All nature seems touch'd by the finger of death,
And the streams are beginning to freeze.
When playful young lads o'er the river may glide,
When Flora attends us no more;
When in plenty you sit by a good fireside,
Sure you ought to remember the poor.
When the cold feath'rd snow does in plenty descend,
And whitens the prospect around;
When the keen cutting wind from the north does attend,
Hard chilling and freezing the ground.
When the hills and the dales are all mantled in white,
And the rivers congeal'd tot he shore;
When the bright twinkling stars shall proclaim a cold night,
Don't forget to remember the poor.
When the poor, harmless hare may be traced to the wood,
By her footsteps indented in snow;
When the lips and the fingers are all starting in blood,
And the marksmen a fowl-shooting go;
When the poor robin-red-breast approaches the cot,
And the icicles hand at the door;
When the board smokes with something reviving and hot,
That's the time to remember the poor.
When a thaw shall ensue, and the waters increase,
And the rivers all insolent grow;
When the fishes from prison obtain a release;
When in danger the travellers go;
When the meadows are hid by the proud swelling flood,
And the bridges are useful no more;
When in life you enjoy every thing that is good,
Can you murmur to think of the poor!
Soon the day will be here when the Saviour was born,
All the world should agree with one voice,
All nations unite to salute the blest morn,
All the ends of the earth should rejoice,
Grim death is deprived of his all-killing sting,
And the grave is triumphant no more;
Saints, angels, and men, hallelujah's shall sing
And the rich shall remember the poor.