integrity

Oh light of dead, and of dying days
Oh life in thy glory go
In a rosy mist, in a moonless maze
over the pathless peaks of snow
And what is left, for the cold gray soul
that moans like wounded dove
one wine is left
in the broken bowl
only
To Love and Love and Love
It’s better to sit
at the fountains birth
than a sea of waves to win
to live in the Love that floweth forth
than the Love that cometh in
Be thou my soul
a spring of Love faithful and free and sure
for a cistern of Love
though undefiled
keeps not thy Spirit pure