Hope is in the Bitter Cold

Every year there is much talk of hope renewed,
The passing of the old year and its failings,
The coming of another set of days.
Might they be different this time? Better?

But hope does not reside in the artificial.
There is no new hope in a number;
That is but a stale wish for last year's rebellion
To finally succeed. Not by hook or by crook, but by digit.

Pagans.

But there is hope of new life in this world.
God sustains his creation by his word;
He has written this hope all around us,
In the flower, by all rights dead in bitter cold,
Only to be raised up to new life in Spring.

This is indeed a time of hope renewed,
For the bitter-cold-power holds sway;
And we have known this day before,
When death mocked life and Satan laughed.