RAY LYON

Lyrics

Lyric adapted from the poem "Mountain Flora" by Evelyn Underhill
©1976 A. R. Mowbray & Co. Ltd.
Reprinted by permission of the Continuum
International Publishing Group

As the plant on the smooth of the hill
That sees not the deep and the height,
That knows not the might of the whole -
I am rooted and grounded in him,
The small leaves of my soul
Thrust up from his will.
I know not the terrible peak,
The white and ineffable thought,
Whence the hill torrents flow
And my nurture is brought.
I am little and meek;
I dare not to lift
My look to his snow,
But drink, drop by drop, of its gift.
Some say, on the face
Of that ultimate height
Small plants have their place:
Rapt far from our sight
In the solitude strange
Where the infinite dream mounts range beyond range
To the infinite sky, there they grow.
Where the intellect faints,
In the silence and cold,
There, humble and glad, their petals unfold.
As the innocent bell
Of the least Soldanella thrusts up through the snow
So the hearts of the saints
On the terrible height of the Godhead may dwell;
Held safe by the Will
As we, on the smooth of the hill