The poem
Winter has a joy for me, While the Saviour's charms I read, Lowly, meek, from blemish free, In the snowdrop's pensive head.
Spring returns, and brings along Life-invigorating suns: Hark! the turtle's plaintive song Seems to speak His dying groans!
Summer has a thousand charms, All expressive of His worth; 'Tis His sun that lights and warms, His the air the cools the earth.
What! has autumn left to say Nothing of a Saviour's grace? Yes, the beams of milder day Tell me of his smiling face.
Light appears with early dawn, While the sun makes haste to rise; See His bleeding beauties drawn On the blushes of the skies.
Evening with a silent pace, Slowly moving in the west, Shews an emblem of His grace, Points to an eternal rest.