And constellations flower and fade....
O Lord, Thou hast Thy country there,
The fields and meadows of the sky,
The fields and meadows ever fair,
The dear, divine, undying glade.
At night we too walk in Thy meadows,
We walk beside Thee in Thy meadows.
At midnight I may hear Thy call,
And ride to Thee on the moon’s light—
To where the living waters fall,