In the first quarter of this century, on a gloomy Saturday morning in the dead of winter, there died at the Commercial Hospital in Cincinnati a young woman only twenty-two years old. She had once been possessed of an enviable share of beauty; and, as she herself said, had been "flattered and sought for the charm of her face." But alas, upon her fair brow had long been written that ugly word―fallen! Yes, fallen from womanly standards of virtue, purity, and innocence, and from all sense of responsibility to God and loved ones.
She had once been the pride of respectable parents, and her first wrong step was the sad beginning of the "same old story over again," the painful history of thousands. Well educated and accomplished, she might have fitted into any prominent circle. But the evil hour in which she yielded to sin and Satan proved to be the beginning of her downward course. It was like the door leading out of the innocency of childhood and modesty of youth into vice and ruin. Having spent her young life in disgrace and shame, the poor friendless girl died the melancholy death of a broken-hearted outcast.
Among her scanty personal belongings was found, in manuscript, the poem, "Beautiful Snow," which was immediately carried to a man of high literary attainments, who was at that time editor of "The National Union." In the columns of that paper, on the morning following the girl's death, the poem appeared in print for the first time. When the paper containing the poem came out on Sunday morning, the body of this victim of Satan's delusion had not yet received burial. The attention of one of America's most noted poets was soon directed to the newly-published lines. He was so affected by their stirring pathos, that he immediately sought for and followed the corpse to its final resting place.
These are the plain facts concerning her whose "Beautiful Snow" will long be regarded as one of the gems of literature. What a warning to all young people who are so eagerly seeking freedom from authority, the right to "do as I please," and personal liberty to test all the lures of Satan! Dear young soul, "enter ye in at the strait gate: for wide is the gate, and broad is the way, that leadeth to destruction, and many there be which go in thereat: because strait is the gate, and narrow is the way, which leadeth unto life, and few there be that find it." Matt. 7:13, 1413Enter ye in at the strait gate: for wide is the gate, and broad is the way, that leadeth to destruction, and many there be which go in thereat: 14Because strait is the gate, and narrow is the way, which leadeth unto life, and few there be that find it. (Matthew 7:13‑14).
Oh, the snow! the beautiful snow,
Filling the sky and earth below!
Over the housetops, over the street,
Over the heads of the people you meet,
Dancing―
Flirting―
Skimming along.
Beautiful snow; it can do no wrong;
Flying to kiss a fair lady's cheek;
Clinging to lips in frolicsome freak.
Beautiful snow from the heavens above,
Pure as an angel, gentle as love.
Oh the snow! the beautiful snow!
How the flakes gather and laugh as they go
Whirling about in its maddening fun;
It plays in its glee with everyone.
Chasing―
Laughing―
Hurrying by,
It lights on the face, and it sparkles the eye;
And e'en the dogs with a bark and a bound
Snap at the crystals that eddy around.
The town is alive, and its heart is aglow,
To welcome the coming of beautiful snow!
How the wild crowd goes swaying along,
Hailing each other with humor and song!
How the gay sleighs like meteors flash by,
Bright for a moment, then lost to the eye.
Ringing―
Swinging―
Dashing they go,
Over the crest of the beautiful snow:
Snow so pure when it falls from the sky,
To be trampled in mud by the crowd rushing by;
To be trampled and tracked by thousands of feet,
Till it blends with the horrible filth in the street.
Once I was pure as the snow, but I fell;
Fell, like the snowflakes from heaven―to hell;
Fell, to be trampled as filth on the street;
Fell, to be scoffed, to be spit on and beat.
Pleading―
Cursing―
Dreading to die,
Selling my soul to whoever would buy;
Dealing in shame for a morsel of bread,
Hating the living and fearing the dead.
Merciful God! have I fallen so low?
And yet I was once like this beautiful snow!
Once I was fair as the beautiful snow,
With an eye like its crystals, a heart like its glow;
Once I was loved for my innocent grace―
Flattered and sought for the charm of my face.
Father―
Mother―
Sisters―all;
God and myself I have lost by my fall!
The veriest wretch that goes shivering by
Will make a wide sweep lest I wander too nigh;
For of all that is on or about me, I know,
There is nothing that's pure―but the beautiful snow.
How strange it should be that this beautiful snow
Should fall on a sinner with nowhere to go!
How strange it would be, when the night comes again,
If the snow and the ice struck my desperate brain:
Fainting―
Freezing―
Dying alone―
Too wicked for prayer, too weak for my moan
To be heard in the crash of the crazy town
Gone mad in the joy at the snow coming down;―
To lie and to die in my terrible woe,
With a bed and shroud of the beautiful snow!
(Added by a Christian)
Helpless and foul as the trampled snow,
Sinner, despair not! Christ stoopeth low
To rescue the soul that is lost in sin,
And raise it to life and enjoyment again.
Groaning―
Bleeding―
Dying for thee,
The Crucified hung on th' accursed tree!
His accents of mercy fall soft on the ear:
"There is mercy for thee"―He will hear the weak prayer...
"O God, in the stream that for sinners did flow,
Wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow.”