More for Corpus Christi
Here is a picture of the thoughts of an old Basque peasant women returning home from church -- a truly lovely poem by Ann Bunston. She was born about 150 years ago, and the poem is to be found in the Oxford Book of English Mystical Verse.
O LITTLE lark, you need not fly
To seek your Master in the sky,
He treads our native sod;
Why should you sing aloft, apart?
Sing to the heaven of my heart;
In me, in me, in me is God!
O strangers passing in your car,
You pity me who come so far
On dusty feet, ill shod;
You cannot guess, you cannot know
Upon what wings of joy I go
Who travel home with God.
From far-off lands they bring your fare,
Earth's choicest morsels are your share,
And prize of gun and rod;
At richer boards I take my seat,
Have dainties angels may not eat:
In me, in me, in me is God!
O little lark, sing loud and long
To Him who gave you flight and song,
And me a heart aflame.
He loveth them of low degree,
And He hath magnifi-ed me,
And holy, holy, holy is His Name!
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