Hurried Prayer
Creator of this ever-rolling orb,
the earth your footstool, all of space your robe,
as you have made this cosmos come to be,
so bring the waywardness of man to bay!
And work in me, most holy Lamb of God,
a power born of heaven, aimed toward good,
as you by greatest mercy ransom brought
to all our race, and hope of glory bright!
And music Spirit, with your winds inspire
the souls of we who pray, and do not spare
one moment of delay; to all who fear
descend in mighty love, pure heaven's fire!
O God, three-personed, one in substance true,
redeem your slave-sold people from their tears,
and as you give from each to each again,
so give to us, that we might Godhead gain
for, though not Gods by right or nature born,
in you we may be Gods, our mere dross burned!
Patria
See these wings outspread,
rising high to heaven!
Swift mind wearing wings
looks down upon the earth;
it soars beyond air,
racing clouds in the path.
Outpacing pure fire
that glows bright in the stars,
it sails light itself
to God's throne, the ether
upholding its feet:
it comes home to the One.
Sleepy Town
Twilight gleams
look down;
beyond dreams
the town
holds its breath
as night overlays
the business of day
with soft death.
