As over English earth I gaze,
Bare down, deep lane, and coppice--crowned
Green hill, and distance lost in blue
Horizon of this homely ground,

A light that glows as from within
Seems glorifying leaf and grass
And every simple wayside flower
That knows not how to say Alas!

O Light, by which we live and move,
Shine through us now, one living whole
With dear earth! Arm us from within
For this last Battle of the Soul!