As the sun sets
And cloud blankets Earth
I stand upon a mountain
Looking down upon
God's Creation
And like a sweetly singing angel
A voice, lucent in the dusk,
A song sings the wind,
Brushes the plains,
Kisses His Work
With gentle blessings.
And that Precious Gift,
Womb of our very civilization
Breathes deeply and sighs,
The sweet exhalation
Of God Himself.
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