We know 'tis good that old Winter should come, <br />Roving awhile from his Lapland home; <br />'Tis fitting that we should hear the sound <br />Of his reindeer sledge on the slippery ground. <br /> <br />For his wide and glittering cloak of snow <br />Protects the seeds of life below; <br />Beneath his mantle are nurtured and born, <br />The roots of the flowers - the germs of the corn. <br /> <br />The whistling tone of his pure strong breath <br />Rides purging the vapours of pestilent death: <br />I love him, I say, and avow it again, <br />For God's wisdom and might shew well in his train. <br /> <br />But the naked - the poor! I know they quail, <br />With crouching limbs from the biting gale: <br />They pine and starve by the fireless hearth, <br />And weep as they gaze on the frost-bound earth. <br /> <br />Stand nobly forth, ye rich of the land! <br />With kindly heart and bounteous hand; <br />Remember 'tis now their season of need, <br />And a prayer for help is a call you must heed. <br /> <br />A few of thy blessings, a tithe of thy gold, <br />Will save the young and cherish the old; <br />'Tis a glorious task to work such good; <br />Do it, ye great ones! Ye can and ye should! <br /> <br />He is not worthy to hold from Heaven <br />The trust reposed, the talents given, <br />Who will not add to the portion that's scant, <br />In the pinching hours of cold and want. <br /> <br />Oh! listen in mercy, ye sons of wealth, <br />Basking in comfort and glowing with health; <br />Give whate'er ye can spare, and be sure, <br />He serveth his Maker who aideth the poor.<br /><br />Eliza Cook<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/winter-the-season-for-the-exercise-of-charity/
