As A Tree My Sin

Faith Is Like A Lily, Lifted High And White.

Flowers Preach To Us If We Will Hear.

It's Surely Summer. For There's A Swallow: Come One Swallow, His Mate Will Follow, The Bird Race Quicken And Wheel And Thicken.

We Must Not Look At Goblin Men, We Must Not Buy Their Fruits: Who Knows Upon What Soil They Fed Their Hungry Thirsty Roots?

In The Bleak Midwinter Frosty Wind Made Moan, Earth Stood Hard As Iron, Water Like A Stone; Snow Had Fallen, Snow On Snow, Snow On Snow, In The Bleak Midwinter, Long Ago.