"Snowflakes--Rejoice, O earth! None need this day be sad That read aright My message bright, That shines to make men glad." THE CHOSEN PEOPLE Somewhere in the Book 'tis written how God had a chosen race, One he favoured, while the others could not get to see His face, Not a smile of recognition, nor a momentary look, And 'twas taken for the gospel, for 'twas written in the Book. It's been thundered down the ages how Jehovah, in His wrath, Swept His wayward, helpless children from the favoured people's path, With the whirlwinds of His power, unto woeful death and flame, That some despot might keep reigning, razing cities in his name. Some have pondered as they heard it, and have wondered as they read, If the language of the big Book told the truth in all it said; For their souls have heard strange music, and their eyes have seen a light, And somehow His chosen people seems the whole world, black and white. All the globe, with all its peoples, all its races, all its creeds, With its wise and unwise sinners, and its strange and varied breeds; For the sunlight tells the story, and the rain reveals the truth, That our Father's universal, as He was in days of Ruth. Not a God of wrath and battles to a chosen few confined, But a Father omnipresent, taking care of all mankind; And the Deity they worship, and the God to whom they pray, Never slaughtered His poor children in the way some chapters say. Have you seen the sunlight gleaming on a summer day in June, Spreading broadcast texts of glory, while the birds hozannas tune? How it floods the heart with gladness, and what charity it brings, 'Till all hate melts to forgiveness in the greater good of things. Have you seen it kiss the foreheads of the mourners as they weep? Have you watched it bathe the outcast as he lays forlorn asleep? O, the blessed sun from Heaven shines alike on bad and good; Read the lesson of the sunshine, then will He be understood. Have you seen the falling raindrops, like a blessing glad and sweet, On the rock and on the meadow, on the thistle and the wheat? What a sermon's in the downpour falling out of God's own hand! Read the lesson of the rainfall, as it nourishes the land. Maybe they're not strong on logic, maybe they have much to learn, But it seems if Love created, Hate cannot creation spurn; And the rain like benediction and the sunshine glad and bright, Fills them with a hope unbounded and a faith that all is right. Through vicissitude and conflict, as this old world wheels and turns, Ever searching, tearful, calling, man for his Creator yearns; And I know the Father's watching with a love so great and wide That He never could be happy with a pleading soul outside. THE WAIF Dark-orbed dear little miss, Torn are your shoes, and the clothes Bagged and thin that you wear; How you live nobody knows.