Oh Mighty Hand,
in me Thou movest,
As gentle Breath,
You waft me onwards,
Stage by Stage, Ascent,
discarding grimmaced faces,
these in turn their time be done.
What image I
last moment was, was not me –
‘though I was, as always, in Thy tender care.
Oh Mighty Hand,
precious, stillness, keen,
of clarity becoming,
so that Self there may be seen
Wipe clean, and clasp,
and hold aloft
this mirrored image – me.
For seeing You,
in all that is,
I too – am One –
in Thee.
