It was cold with a cover of snow
A chill captured the entire state
Beasts as well as people
Questioned their immediate fate
The streets were empty and lonely
A fog bank had slipped in
Most churchyards were vacant as well
Folks seemingly forgot about sin
But in a quiet little country church
You could hear Amazing Grace
In the snow upon the pathway
Several footprints you could trace
The music sweet and lovely
Drifted clear out to the road
A small congregation was there
To ask God to help with their loads
A potbellied stove in the corner
A pile of logs lie alongside
So comforting it was in spite
Of the chilling weather outside
It’s the warmth of Jesus in our hearts
That matters every single day
Just like this small congregation on
God’s lonely wintry Sunday!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem