Spirit of God in the clear running water

Blowing to greatness the trees on the hill.

Spirit of God in the finger of morning:

Fill the earth, bring it to birth,

And blow where you will.

Blow, blow, blow till I be

But the breath of the Spirit blowing in me.

Down in the meadow the willows are moaning

Sheep in the pastureland cannot lie still.

Spirit of God, creation is groaning:

I saw the scar of a year that lay dying

Heard the lament of a lone whippoorwill.

Spirit of God, see that cloud crying:

Spirit of God every man's heart is lonely

Watching and waiting and hungry until

Spirit of God, man longs that you only