ONLY a few short weeks ago,

All icy bound and packed with snow,

This rocky cleft, through which to-day

Runs the glad brooklet on its way;

The merry brook which leaps and flows,

Flashing and singing as it goes,

To find and join and make a part

Of the great river’s urgent heart.

Could it have dreamed so sweet a thing

In all those months of prisoning?

O happy brook! made glad, made free,

Shall you not find at last the sea?

Only a few short months ago,

A harder frost, a deeper snow,

Lay on my soul and held it tight

Away from hope, away from light.

Now God’s sweet sun has entered in

And melted all the chains of sin,