What can be whit­er than beau­ti­ful snow,
Coming from Hea­ven to earth be­low,
Pure and so white as it fall­eth light
Over this broad world of sin and of woe?

Refrain

Yes, there is some­thing still whit­er;
Hearken ye wea­ry, and know!
Tho’ your sins be as scar­let red,
They shall be whit­er than snow.

Jesus has died, and now all men may know
That His rich blood for the world did flow;
Saved we may be, and from sin set free,
Washed and made whit­er than beau­ti­ful snow.

Refrain

Beautiful souls of His saints here be­low,
What but His blood could have made them so?
All who be­lieve shall His grace re­ceive,
And be made pur­er than Hea­ven-born snow.

Refrain

Come to this Sav­ior! He sure­ly doth know
All of your sor­row and sin and woe,
And when you sigh He will hear your cry,
Wash you more white than the beau­ti­ful snow.

Refrain