What the Old Year Saw by Fanny J. Crosby — Read

The moon looked down from a cloudless sky, / On the white and crispy snow; / And one by one the hours went by, / While I heard the wild winds blow. / I thought of those who were toiling hard, / Their burden of life to bear; / I thought of the homes that were dark and cold, / And the little ones shivering there;

Then I looked again at the queenly moon, / As she walked in her path of light; / And I prayed from the depths of my inmost soul, / "Lord, pity the poor tonight." / While thus I mused by myself alone, / Watching the embers glow, / A form stole in; he was bent with age, / And his locks were white as snow.