Neal Pollard
A dusky silent morn, white blanket on the ground,
The earth with powder to adorn, a heaping, icy mound.
No worldly voices heard, no bustling bodies stirred,
Just God’s master portrait, as the land He gently girds.
The clouds He made to flurry, to drop its winter moisture,
With white the ground to bury flakes in a fluffy cluster.
Refreshing and replenishing, a landscape with downy finishing,
Behold the omnipotent picture, nothing the beauty diminishing.
Its purity is simplicity, it covers the dirt and the gloom.
It tells us all implicitly of God’s power to clean and groom.
Clean and distinctly bright, a terrestrial tint of white
See the Savior’s snapshot, a solemn, soothing sight.
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