There’s a beautiful word I often have heard,
Its meaning I wish much to know;
I think if we look we shall find in God’s Book
About being “whiter than snow.”
It puzzles me much to think there is such,
For whiteness there’s nothing I know
With the snow to compare, so shining and fair:—
Then what can be “whiter than snow?”
The snow-drop looks brown with its head droop ing down
On white winter border below,
And the lily, though white, I’m sure had not quite
The claim to be “whiter than snow.”
But a child cannot find the depths of God’s mind;
To a wiser than I, I will go,
And ask Him to tell, for I’d like to know well,
Of this wonderful “whiter than snow.”
But can God behold, as I have been told,
A child who’s so little and low?
And can it be true, If I am made new,
That I shall be “whiter than snow?”
How sweet!—it is true that I am made new
Since washed in the blood that did flow
So freely to cleanse away the dark stains,
And make me far “whiter than snow.”
And now that I’m Thine, O! teach me to shine,
And in love and wisdom to grow;
From sin undefiled, O Lord, keep Thy child,
Who is washed, and made “whiter than snow.”
ML 03/14/1937