You are not so swift;
You are not so still;
Yet make your way
So gentle and gay.
When you pass the fields
The grass all yields
It sings a hymn
For you swings in rhythm.
When a flower blooms
How beautiful it seems
You make it so grace
For you hold it brace.
When you pass the rivers
Makes it glitters
It dances in your way
For you make it sway.
When you pass a man
His sadness shun
You make him light
For your touch is delight.
If there is a heaven
It is nothing-but
I swear it's you
Make us feel even in our Tavern.
No comments:
Post a Comment