They neither toil nor spin,
    Exist without a care,
    And yet no earthly king can win
    A garb so chaste and rare.

    Frozen, they burst to life,
    To nature’s minstrelsy—­
    A resurrection type
    Of immortality.

TELL PETER

And Simon Peter stood and warmed himself.—­John 18:25.

    Peter, it was not outward cold
    But inward chill thy bosom froze,
    Made thee deny with falsehood bold
    Thy Lord and Master to his foes. 
    When we find cheer at Satan’s fires
    The world is there to work us harm,
    To deaden all our pure desires
    With its deceitful lure and charm.

    Peter, the voice of chanticleer
    Fulfilled what Christ had prophesied;
    And oh, that pitying look sincere
    From him whom thou hadst just denied! 
    Thy burst of penitential grief! 
    Heaven those tears did surely send. 
    Tears give the burdened heart relief;
    Dry anguish may its tendrils rend.

    Sin soon will crucify our Lord,
    Thy sin, and all the world’s beside. 
    He gave himself, the Living Word,
    Our shelter from God’s wrath to hide. 
    Had all the seraphs pens to write
    Such love upon the boundless sky,
    Angelic powers could not indite
    Its greatness while the ages fly.

    The hour is hastening.  God has willed
    That Christ should through his own decree
    Abolish death and have fulfilled
    Our blood-bought immortality. 
    And when the awful tomb he rent,
    When freed from every earthly thrall,
    “Tell Peter” was the message sent;
    “Tell Peter”—­’tis love’s tender call.

    Peter was martyr to his faith;
    His rock, God’s son whom he denied;
    This faith the key that unlocks death
    To realms where joy and peace abide. 
    “Tell Peter!” Honey drops of love,
    Awaking all the choirs of heaven! 
    “Tell Peter”—­angels from above
    Shout, “Hear, O earth, and be forgiven!”

THE SLEET

    Regal the earth seems with diamonds today,
    Gemming all nature in blazing array;
    A picture more fairy-like never could be
    Than this wonderful icicle filigree.

    A crystallized world!  What a marvelous sight,
    Gorgeous and grand in the March sunlight! 
    The frost-king magician has changed the spring showers
    To turquois and topaz and sapphire bowers.

    And what is the lesson we learn from the sleet,
    As toiling life’s road with wearying feet,
    Upward we strive, but failing so oft
    In the struggles that bear us aright and aloft?

    ’Tis this—­that the hard breath of winter’s chill blast
    Alone can this mantle of loveliness cast;
    And thus our sharp winds of trial may prove
    Angels to weave us bright garments of love.