Each day and night, O God
You greet and welcome tens of thousands,
Souls released from earthly care
And streaming to your arms.
Tens of thousands
Every day and night.
Among them is a little boy
Whose earthly legs should still
Be carrying him gaily
Over a Syrian hill
And not, bedewed with sand,
Searing the convicted conscience
Of the world.
Among them is a trio,
Mother, father, daughter,
Children of music,
Parents each of melody and harmony.
They should still be raising songs
Among them are more fathers,
Loved by someone here.
Loved before the dawn of time
Embrace these saints, O God
(If the youngest of them will endure it
Before they race to dance upon the crest
Of heaven’s highest hill).
Embrace we saints, O God,
Who wish we’d had a way to share
For just a little longer
And only dimly see the consolation
You intend for us.