Trees, their swaying branches, the rustling of the leaves,
Brilliance of the summer sky, the earth in quiet, heaves.
Ears, in earnest seeking, the whispering corn, their sheaves,
The distant cattle lowing, the child, his mother cleaves.
Find Hope in every season, the sun, the snow and rain,
The quiet hills and valleys, the mountains and the plain.
Where death and life completing, the harvest, yields the grain,
The pangs of birth renewing, how sweet, the babe’s refrain.
At last, the message has been sent, now whitter shall it go,
Adrift in the endless ocean, buoyed by its restless flow.
Whereupon, this tiny isle, its shore, in the moonlight, glow,
The Word shall find a welcomed home, and Hope, a place to grow.
‘Twas on your gentle rolling slopes, lined with verdant green,
That I, this child, alone and lost, sweet paradise, did glean.
Calling me, and drawing close, the promise of joys unseen,
Yet even now, the scent of earth, from life, its bitter, wean.
O wandering wind, come take me, the hills and mountains high,
Alive, now all my senses, the clouds, the birds, and sky.
There above, the homely earth, the land and sea, sail by,
Let find myself, a peaceful place, to birth, to live, to die.
Not a doubt to hold me back, my trust in you, deny,
For even as I wonder, what matters, who, and why.
For gently, so you held me, while in broken pieces, lie,
Until the end should greet me, the glint, your loving eye.
“Keep me as the apple of your eye”
~ Psalm 17:8
Tether me, O Lord, to Love divine,
By cords of grace, spun as silk so fine.
With ancient lights, hung in heavens, shine,
Ever bound to You, Your will, as mine.