WIND IN THE PINE

Lew Sarett

Solo 1: Oh, I can hear you, God, above the cry

Of the tossing trees—

Rolling your windy tides across the sky

All: And splashing your silver seas over the pine,

To the water-line of the moon.

Solo 1: Oh, I can hear you, God

Above the wail of the lonely loon—

All: When the pine—tops pitch and nod—

Solo 1: Chanting your melodies

Of ghostly waterfalls and avalanches.

All: Swashing your wind among the branches

To make them pure and white.

Solo 1: Wash over me, God, with your piney breeze,

And your moon’s wet-silver pool;

All: Wash over us, God, with your wind and night.

And leave us clean and cool.