Footsteps lead fron doorway warm
into the white beyond
the single track grows long and lost
over the rise beyond
Over the hill and down through the dale
and ever onward going
through drift and and frozen patch of grass
the footsteps pass, the footsteps pass
along the wood with laden bough
they go not stopping for a rest
on, ever onward, forward going
with bent head to the falling snow they trudge
one foot and then the other
Till far into the darkening night
a light gleams through a window
the steps have long behind been filled
the snow lies silent there
and onward go the steps intent
on yonder lighted beakon.
The need is great, they hasten now
towards the one light beaming
Inside the room she waites and hopes
the child as yet unborn
with practiced hand he turns the babe
easing her sweating brow
the cry of life soon rends the air
filling the gentle room with joy
At last the weary feet can rest a while
as Christmas morn dawns bright and clear
before they set out once again
upon the sparkling morning snow
to make the marks that once have been
with lightened heart
tarrying now and then to watch a bird
or mind the light upon an ancient tree
and onward bound for home and hearth
where anxiously they wait for news
and for their safe returning.
