The winter comes; I walk alone,
No bird in sight that sing;
For me to keep my heart my own
The winter is "my" spring.
No flowers to see--no bees that hum--
The coming spring's already come.
I will love the cold, the slippery road
I’ll keep warm in my abode.
All sacred gifts sent unto us
Are made by God's own hands -
And always, they are precious ones
To love just as He plans!
While lillies in the valley rest,
And clad are crystal trees...
A lifeless day revives the soul
Through coldness on a breeze.
These heavenly troves to come our way,
So beautiful, big or small...
Will touch our lives through each new day -
God's gifts... they're best of all!
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