The earth and all its fullness is the Lord’s:

The landed pillars of the deep,

The thrumming, captured seas,

The rivers rising from the holy ground—

Are all still his.

Who can find a home on your mountain?

Who can stand inside your holy place

With head high and a whole heart?

The one who held the coal and felt the firekiss;

Who greets God in every lesser love;

Who hoped her way through long years,

Black and bird-boned as the limbs of winter.

Whose laugh broke in rich beams,

Loud and wild as it would.

Lift up every last lost gate.

Open every angel-hemmed door.

The king of glory is coming in,

The resurrected world in step behind him.