BE THOU MY VISION

"Be Thou my Vision, O Lord of my heart;
Naught be all else to me, save that Thou art."

On a bitter winter morning we stand and sing
an old Irish hymn

I in my wellies giving it
as much welly as a little boy can.

I hold my father's hand.
He squeezes mine.

But it is not to Him I sign
but to my own Da.

My father is my heaven
here on the earth I have

known for
all my seven years.

I close my eyes and sing
with everything I got.

"Thou my great Father, I Thy true son!"

I understand the words
from the inside out.

"Thou and Thou only, first in my heart,
my Treasure Thou art."

The winter of '63
lost in the blizzard of time.

Now I hold my father's hand
as he lies dying.

He squeezes mine.
I sing to him in my mind.

"Thou my best Thought, by day or by night,
Waking or sleeping, Thy presence my light."

He lets go
of my hand.

His little boy still sings for him.
"Heart of my own heart, whatever befall."