A whisper bears the world upon the wind, We feel the timeless breath by which it's blown, Through sinew, bone—through all that flesh has known— The Word that traces heart of flesh in mind. I stand in joy; in still darkness I find The Word that moves through marrow, blood, and bone; My life to give to what I cannot own— That love which bends the broken, reassigned-- To health what death had claimed, the Logos names, And sounds the whole of us who scarce can hear; Close mouths, and open ears to stir the flames— To bear the Word and not betray it here. Image of God, for all and each we live, Handing on what was never ours to give.