The ice and snow we lately saw,
Which covered all the ground,
Are melted soon before the thaw,
And can no more be found.

Could all the art of man suffice
To move away the snow,
To clear the rivers from the ice,
Or make the waters flow?

No, ’tis the work of God alone:
An emblem of the power
By which He melts the heart of stone,
In His appointed hour.

All outward means, till He appears,
Will ineffectual prove;
Though much the sinner sees and hears,
He’s destitute of love.

But let the stoutest sinner feel
The softening warmth of grace,
Though hard as ice, or rock, or steel,
His heart dissolves apace.