As harvest time draws to a close
 And autumn bells doth toll,
Beware the bitter chill that brings
 The winter of the soul.

It comes when battles undertook
 Are fought and lost in vain;
It comes when illness strikes us down
 Or freezes us with pain.

It comes when warmth is unreturned
 Or flames of faith burn low;
It blows compassion from the heart
 And fills the void with snow.

From under doors and through the cracks
 It creeps with earthly cares,
Transforming lips to frozen smiles
 And eyes to icy stares.

It drives the fisherman ashore
 And numbs the workman's hands;
It halts the warrior in his tracks
 And chills his noble plans.

No fruit of spirit can survive
 The grip of winter's frost
And all the good that might have been
 Is thus forever lost.

So light the bonfires of your faith
 When autumn bells doth toll,
And pray to God that you'll escape
 The winter of the soul.