A Sunday Morning at the Hut – Summer Term 1917

Thank God for the blue of Summer skies
And the azure wings of butterflies,
But most of all I thank to-day
For the blue of Bluebell Woods in May.

They breathed up blue in the morning haze,
And the little birds sang a song of praise
And told the Angels to praise God too
For clothing Bluebells all in blue.

And far away in the Valley, I wist
The bells are ringing to Eucharist,
God’s praises sound as clear and true
From Sabbath bells and bell of blue.

E’en in the lands of war and strife
God clothes the fields in fresh spring life,
And lives laid down in the cause of right
Spring up afresh in the fields of Light.

And down the sweeps of the azure sky
With rush of wings the Angels fly,
To raise the boys from the crimson sod,
And carry them swift to the Heart of God.

Chanting sweetly the song of Heaven,
That death is past and new life given!
“Jubilate Deo!” those Victors sing,
“This is not death! But eternal spring!”

L.J. D.

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