'Tis true, you see, and none deny
the clock of heaven ticks on by.
The scope is broader, dear, by far
than you can fathom where you are.
And yet, we know, with memory clear
how difficult, as time draws near
To maintain patience, faith and just
how tenuous is that here and now.
But listen, dear and listen true
yea, all, indeed, is well with you.
The hallway narrows at the door,
come hither to return no more!
When thou doth hear this music blest
let heart take flight with all the rest,
And feel the notes that vibrate through
the all and every mote of you.
And thus the color's sharpest hue
with life and richness come to you,
A brilliance which may ebb and flow
and bid you follow where they go.
And doth your essence not then see
the mastery that was meant to be?
As memory feels herself arise
to be at one with God and skies?
And not perverse nor wicked we
who guide you o'er that turgid sea,
But blessed angels of your fate
set here to watch o'er you and wait.
Beloved, watch as eaglets do
the cast of sky, the tone and hue,
Recall to mind, and this you can,
the sound of dawn, the hue of man.
In blessed creation's dawning Light
the word became - again at night
The word returned from whence it came
to wait creation's dawn again.
