Candle in the Window

And once upon a Christmas Eve
She rubbed her hands and covered her arms
In the snow she sat and wept.
The forest all around,
And the sky so dark above her head;
She could see her breath in the frosty air,
She her footprints in the freshly laid snow.

And she shivered in the cold;
All alone, none by her side,
So she laid down and wept,
And then she died.

Christmas morn bloomed bright and fair
Sun shining upon the winter wonderland
Like a thousand tiny jewels
Upon the porch step laid.

When the little child-face peered out
But what did she see, her face upturned in beauty
But a beauty lying in the snow
The flakes of purest snow rested gently on her pale cheeks
The frost upon her lashes.

The little one knew not what to do
A tremulous finger touched the fading red lips,
Brushed away the limp wet hair;
Then looked up and cried-
“Papa, she died!”

Christmas night in the house belonging to the porch
Sat a solemn little party of papa, mama, and the little one
All was dark without the windows, save a candle in the window
Lit to light a traveler’s path
To save a soul from dying in the snow

The little one lit a candle
And whispered, “Papa, I’ll name her Mercy.”
“Why such, my little one?” he said.
“Because, dear Daddy,” she whispered as she held the candle up to see,
“Like Mercy came and died, so did Jesus, so that we would someday see a candle in the window,
And not have to freeze under the snow.”