The Grass Of The Field
Out on the sweep of the hills,
Over the flower of the grass,
I saw God pass.
He came so near,
That I held my breath, and was still.
I saw but the bending grass,
And the dust of the flower of the grass
Pass like smoke.
But I Knew He was there!
He was weaving a cloak,
A vesture of green for the hills,
From the dust of the flower of the grass.
And I know that I saw Him pass,
Out on the sweep of the hills.