Part 4 — HENRY CHARLES BEECHING

GOD who created me Nimble and light of limb, In three elements free, To run, to ride, to swim: Not when the sense is dim, But now from the heart of joy, I would remember Him: Take the thanks of a boy. Jesu, King and Lord, Whose are my foes to fight, Gird me with Thy sword Swift and sharp and bright. Thee would I serve if I might; And conquer if I can, From day-dawn till night, Take the strength of a man. Spirit of Love and Truth, Breathing in grosser clay, The light and flame of youth, Delight of men in the fray, Wisdom in strength’s decay; From pain, strife, wrong to be free, This best gift I pray, Take my spirit to Thee.

WITH lifted feet, hands still, I am poised, and down the hill Dart, with heedful mind; The air goes by in a wind. Swifter and yet more swift, Till the heart with a mighty lift Makes the lungs laugh, the throat cry:— ‘O bird, see; see, bird, I fly. ‘Is this, is this your joy? O bird, then I, though a boy, For a golden moment share Your feathery life in air!’ Say, heart, is there aught like this In a world that is full of bliss? ’Tis more than skating, bound Steel-shod to the level ground. Speed slackens now, I float Awhile in my airy boat; Till, when the wheels scarce crawl, My feet to the treadles fall. Alas, that the longest hill Must end in a vale; but still, Who climbs with toil, wheresoe’er, Shall find wings waiting there.