Blow, Ye North Wind

October 2006

O'er the mountains high I stride:
A wint'ry blast down the mountainside
Tears at my face and at my eyes-
Blow, ye North Wind, blow!

I reach the top, stand on the hill:
The fiendish wind drifts fell and chill;
My breathing life it tries to still.
Blow, ye North Wind, blow!

And as I face the sullen draft
Against my face, I must needs laugh,
For all ye blow away is chaff.
Blow, ye North Wind, blow!

Against thy cutting current keen
I press, as devouring demons teem;
I shall defeat thee, thou damned fiends.
Blow, ye North Wind, blow!

Yes, damned thou art, thou fiends who throw
Thy sleet, intent to make me bow,
For it is God who sends the snow-
Blow, ye North Wind, blow!

And in that final fatal hour
I'll breathe my last in my Father's tower,
And thou, North Wind, deprived of pow'r-
Blow, ye North Wind, blow!