SO frankly had the cowslips come To make the hill a bower, 'Twas hard in stepping not to tread To death a lovely flower. As deep I drank the sweetened air, And joyed to be alone, With broad and honest counsel rang The bells of Dumbleton. @3Trust—in—Love! Lean—on—Christ! Come—to—God, Friend!@1 The candid throats of Dumbleton, Alike in energy, Across the miles of meadowland Together called to me. Devoted long ago to Christ, They labour and beseech, Persuading by their mellowness As far as they can reach. @3Trust—in—Love! Lean—on—Christ! Come—to—God, Friend!@1 Methought that as I lingered there, Beside the green-grey fence, The stainless lips of Dumbleton Bemoaned my negligence; For louder still across the shire The belfry sounded clear A collect for my lazy heart And sleeping soul to hear. @3Trust—in—Love! Lean—on—Christ! Come—to—God, Friend!@1 |