The Breeze

Jones Very

There is a blessing in the air,
Which seems a sense of joy to yield
To the outstretched hands of prayer,
From the green-clad woods and fields.

It is a joy that will not cease,
And comes to fill the heart with peace,
And seems to make our sorrows light,
And all the earth and sky seem bright.

The passing breeze a song doth bear
Of sweetness floating everywhere;
A song of love that fills the air.