The Angels keep their ancient places
Turn but a stone and start a wing!
'Tis ye, 'tis ye, your estranged faces
That miss the many-splendored thing.
O, You who are ever
giving life to all life,
moving all creatures,
root of all things,
washing them clean,
wiping out their mistakes,
healing their wounds,
You are our true life,
luminous, wonderfulo,
awakening the heart
from its ancient sleep.