55
What lovely thing
Thy Hand hath made
The smooth plumed bird
It its emerald shade
The seed of grass
The speck of stone
Which the wayfarer ant
Stirs and moves on
56
A flame is not merely something
Which warms or burns but
A symbol of enduring life of household
An abiding source of nourishment
And shelter in which
Man returns from his casual wanderings
It is not a quick fork of fire
Which may sting or hurt
It is the hearth at which
One worships
And fro which one fights
57
"I love Him" what else can I say?
It's a secret they'll say. How can that be?
"God knows I love Him and so does He"
