The Soul Of God Is Poured Into

Silent Rushes The Swift Lord Through Ruined Systems Still Restored, Broadsowing, Bleak And Void To Bless, Plants With Worlds The Wilderness; Waters With Tears Of Ancient Sorrow Apples Of Eden Ripe To-morrow. House And Tenant Go To Ground, Lost In God, In Godhead Found.

The Maker Of A Sentence Launches Out Into The Infinite.

Spirit, That Made Those Heroes Dare To Die, And Leave Their Children Free, Bid Time And Nature Gently Spare The Shaft We Raise To Them And Thee.

Thy Dangerous Glances Make Women Of Men; New-born, We Are Melting Into Nature Again.

Our Strength Grows Out Of Our Weakness.