Who’s World?

The world is too much with us
late and soon
stop the world I want to get off
before noon
and be far from the madding crowd
before a blue moon
in time.

Listening to the news and all
the silliness and scariness of this
year’s politics, all these pop into
his mind.

He encounters a couple he knew
long ago and they tell him a certain
hymn was sung on Sunday and
what came to mind

was his late wife’s memorial
service during which the hymn,
her favorite, was sung. Uneasy
with masculine language of time,

he still tears up when thinking of
the wise and comforting words for
every day and time while humming
each line:

1. This is my Father’s world,
and to my listening ears
all nature sings, and round me rings
the music of the spheres.
This is my Father’s world:
I rest me in the thought
of rocks and trees, of skies and seas;
his hand the wonders wrought.

2. This is my Father’s world,
the birds their carols raise,
the morning light, the lily-white,
declare their maker’s praise.
This is my Father’s world:
he shines in all that’s fair;
in the rustling grass I hear him pass;
he speaks to me everywhere.

3. This is my Father’s world.
O let me ne’er forget
that though the wrong seems oft so strong,
God is the ruler yet.
This is my Father’s world:
why should my heart be sad?
The Lord is King; let the heavens ring!
God reigns; let the earth be glad!


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