Rom. 2: 19 And art confident that thou thyself art a guide of the blind, a light of them which are in darkness
The snow is hugging the trees this morn
In a blanket of purity’s glow.
My soul is comforted in Christ the Lord
By a Light of wondrous show.
Each branch is cradled in soft cotton
Frozen is the arm and stem.
The Lord asks me to raise my eyes
And no man am I to condemn.
My snowblind eyes squint to see
The white that clings to the tree
God Himself has locked his arms
Around the mortal part of me.
Each morning I rise to a glorious sight
I bow my head and pray.
The Lord has wrapped me in His love
The sunrise a sweet bouquet.