It was the first time that I had ever hated the sound of my own name. "Tommy, you're up," the coach had yelled down from the entrance of the dugout. I was sitting on the end of the bench next to my ... [+]
White snowflakes glisten, bound in crystal bond
Reflecting sunshine and a brighter light -
A radiant thought whispered from beyond
This cold, hard world of atoms in our sight
The robin sings her sweet, exultant lays
And rustling leaves proclaim the counterpoint.
That Composer in whom sheep may safely graze
Reveals his music in the chorus joint.
In the cars, cathedrals, and cantatas
Wrought by man, that piece of work of breath and dust,
Echoes the pattern of He who taught us
The beauty and the dream for which we lust.
As I sketch with child's hands some grand design
A Father's hand clasps mine and guides the line
Reflecting sunshine and a brighter light -
A radiant thought whispered from beyond
This cold, hard world of atoms in our sight
The robin sings her sweet, exultant lays
And rustling leaves proclaim the counterpoint.
That Composer in whom sheep may safely graze
Reveals his music in the chorus joint.
In the cars, cathedrals, and cantatas
Wrought by man, that piece of work of breath and dust,
Echoes the pattern of He who taught us
The beauty and the dream for which we lust.
As I sketch with child's hands some grand design
A Father's hand clasps mine and guides the line