The wind walks slow through hollowed hills, The frost lies white and deep, And in the fields the silence fills The furrows fast asleep. No robin sings, no stream is stirred, No green upon the bough— But peace attends the sleeping world, And time is resting now. Rest, O earth, and dream below, While stars like embers gleam. Hold fast the seed beneath the snow, Till sunlight wakes the dream. I am the frost on windowpane, The hush the world must bear, The guardian of the sleeping grain, The keeper of the prayer. Though night is long and hearts grow cold, Still mercy lights the air— The northern sky, in glory rolled, Becomes my answered prayer. Rest, O earth, and dream below, While stars like embers gleam. Hold fast the seed beneath the snow, Till sunlight wakes the dream. Even in the cold and dark, A promise lies in wait, For just as Christ rose from the tomb, The earth shall recreate. The buried seed, the frozen field, Shall wake beneath the dew— And life shall bloom from death concealed, As Heaven makes all new. Behold! The colors pierce the dark, In ribbons wide and high, As angels paint their holy mark Across the midnight sky. So let me stand, and lift my gaze, In wonder pure and rare— For even coldest nights give praise, And flame becomes my prayer. Rest, O earth, and dream below, While Heaven’s banners gleam. Through Winter’s hand the heart shall know, The light within the dream.
