Perhaps upon the River Cart or by its dwindling streams
We feel a heart that’s beating power without another means
A power that turns the waiting tide and waters plants and flowers
Turning students to their books in every waitng hour
A power that lights the morning dawn and dusk a gentle glow
A power that hold each swan intact as waters gently flow
A guiding light which simply “Is” with no demands on man
While preachers loudly scream and shout that all the folk are damned
A power that needs no words nor praise to move within it’s place
For it has the world for man to feel it’s gentle guiding pace
And if by chance an apple tree should spring in Barshaw Park
Or nestling feathers after flight, you see a morning lark
Look upon its shining beak or feathers black and pure
Worship not the image, mind, but the power that it endures
And when the apple tree no more, holds up it’s greenish fruit
Look toward the power in Life for all things absolute
Only the real stands up to time, with majesty and robes
All else disappears from sight, with pain and anxious throws
And so the real in everything is found not in the clay
But in the power of Life itself which opens up the day
Dwell not in things which are not real but look behind the eyes
There you find the real idea of all that Love implies
