Spirit of God

Spirit of God in the clear running water

Blowing to greatness the trees on the hill.

Spirit of God in the finger of morning:

Fill the earth, bring it to birth, and blow

where you will. Blow, blow, blow till I be

but the breath of the Spirit blowing in me.

Down in the meadow the willows are

moaning, sheep in the pastureland

cannot lie still. Spirit of God, creation is

groaning:

I saw the scar of a year that lay dying

Heard the lament of a lone

whirlpoorwill. Spirit of God, see that

cloud crying:

Spirit of God every man’s heart is lonely

Watching and waiting and hungry until

Spirit of God, man longs that you only

Fulfill the earth, bring it to birth, and blow

where you will. Blow, blow, blow till I be

but the breath of the Spirit blowing in me