On a face out the shade;
And the tilled field frozen;
From the candle’s wick made;
Through the tree on the road;
In the corners of hearts;
Lightly lifting the load;
Happ’ly sparking new starts.
God is a house with a window,
In the heart of a deep, gloomy wood,
Where stars only see boughs below,
And the glen wears the dark like a hood.
Aglow is the glass with a roar –
See, the shed is alight through the mire!
The window swings open a door,
Where there’s struck a great generous fire.