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Meteorology


My soul looks up to thee, O God
As waters rise above the earth
And beckoned by the Sun's warm love
To meet thee in the air above.

And yet dread Satan's cold doth meet
My heart; in chilling turns it dense
So now I fall through air, despair,
My sins recalled, my pain immense.

Yet Father, thy pure spirit sweeps
Below my heart, and lifts it up;
Thy Son's warm love makes light my soul,
Inviting me to drink thy cup.

Once more I rise, to look at thee,
My life confirmed by setting sun
And Satan's ice in seeming glee
Doth dissipate before the warmth
Of rising Sun, the only One.

D.H.H.T