Mark the soft falling snow

Verse 1

Mark the soft-falling snow, And the descending rain! To heaven, from whence it fell, It turns not back again; But waters earth through every pore, And calls forth all her secret store.

Verse 2

Arrayed in beauteous green, The hills and valleys shine, And man and beast are fed By providence divine: The harvest bows its golden ears, The copious seed of future years.

Verse 3

So, saith the God of grace, My gospels shall descend, Almighty to effect The purpose I intend; Millions of souls shall feel its power, And bear it down to millions more.