Flit o’er the summer grass,
So, in Thy sight, Almighty One,
Earth’s generations pass.
And while the years, an endless host,
Come pressing swiftly on,
The brightest names that earth can boast
Just glisten and are gone.
Yet doth the Star of Bethlehem shed
A luster pure and sweet,
And still it leads, as once it led,
To the Messiah’s feet.
O Father, may that holy star
Grow every year more bright,
And send it glorious beams afar
To fill the world with light.
Fifty years my favourite poet
ReplyDeleteI'm glad you like this poet.
DeleteFather, re WCB's spirituality; was he raised in the Scottish protestant tradition or as one of us, do you know.
ReplyDeleteI'll have to look at WCB's bio. I do like the spirituality that comes out of Scotland. One year, I'll make it to the highlands.
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