But when they crossed that pure white field
John's path alone could be called straight.
This truth at once they all did yield,
How came this, John? they cried. Please state.br>
Said John, all that I know is this,
I fixed my eyes on that tall tree,
An object which I could not miss,
And gazed upon It constantly.
I did not see the track I made,
I never once looked at my feet.
From one of you I sought not aid.
Nor did I think I could you beat.
Wise John, the deacon said, he chose
The only way we can walk straight
And every earnest christian knows
Thus Christ helps all who on him wait.
With fallen snow the ground was white.
A blanket o'er the land it lay.
Wading through snow was a delight
To boys who had gone cut to play.
They could go freely anywhere
Because the snow was not to deep.
So they went ranging here end there,
And over fence and ditch did leap.
Unto a level field they came
Where not a track was to be seen.
Said one, Here let vs play a game.
The snow provides a splendid screen.
Who now can make the straightest track
Across this field ? Shall we not try ?
The plan supporters did not lack.
Why, Yes, we will, they all did cry.
Each took his place and started out
Resolved to do his very best.
Each confident, I do not doubt
That he was equal to the test.