The Days That Make Us

The Distant Soul Can Shake The Distant Friend's Soul And Make The Longing Felt, Over Untold Miles.

It's A Warm Wind, The West Wind, Full Of Birds' Cries; I Never Hear The West Wind But Tears Are In My Eyes. For It Comes From The West Lands, The Old Brown Hills, And April's In The West Wind, And Daffodils.

The Corn That Makes The Holy Bread By Which The Soul Of Man Is Fed, The Holy Bread, The Food Unpriced, Thy Everlasting Mercy, Christ.

And He Who Gives A Child A Treat Makes Joy-bells Ring In Heaven's Street, And He Who Gives A Child A Home Builds Palaces In Kingdom Come, And She Who Gives A Baby Birth Brings Saviour Christ Again To Earth.

And May We Find When Ended Is The Page, Death But A Tavern On Our Pilgrimage.