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| Text: | The Gospel |
| Author: | Doddridge |
Mark the soft falling snow
And the diffusive rain!
To heaven, from whence it fell,
It turns not back again;
Till, watering earth
Through every pore,
It calls forth all
Her secret store.
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.
“So,” saith the God of grace,
“My gospel shall descend,
Almighty to effect
The purpose I intend;
Millions of souls
Shall feel its power,
And bear it down
To millions more.”
| Text Information | |
|---|---|
| First Line: | Mark the soft falling snow |
| Title: | The Gospel |
| Author: | Doddridge |
| Meter: | H. M. |
| Language: | English |
| Publication Date: | 1866 |
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