I BELIEVE
God's house for me need have not roof;
the sky will do.
Shooting stars climb higher than church spires,
And dippers flicker 'round the host in place of fires.
The cross I see upon the blossom of a tree,
While willows weep and roses wake with tears
upon their cheeks.
The Harmony of song I hear each morn
is sweeter far than practiced choirs,
And how can it be that balsam and fir
are not more pleasing than frankinscense and myrrh?
A woodpecker pecking unmercifully reminds
me of my immortality,
And when I kneel to plant a tree or tend a flower,
This is for me, I dare to say, the hour that I pray.
the sky will do.
Shooting stars climb higher than church spires,
And dippers flicker 'round the host in place of fires.
The cross I see upon the blossom of a tree,
While willows weep and roses wake with tears
upon their cheeks.
The Harmony of song I hear each morn
is sweeter far than practiced choirs,
And how can it be that balsam and fir
are not more pleasing than frankinscense and myrrh?
A woodpecker pecking unmercifully reminds
me of my immortality,
And when I kneel to plant a tree or tend a flower,
This is for me, I dare to say, the hour that I pray.
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