Cor Meum In Aeternum

Near moor’s edge, She lies there;

Where winter’s wild, winding winds

Whiplash, over steep bank side,

As they sweep east from west.

Solitary sycamore,

Except when shaken, saluting

To attention, silent stands

Stock-sentry-still close by.

Little Bear in Holy ground;

Spear strong in sanctuary

Of everlasting peace, resting

Under watchful Wesleyan eyes

Unafraid; no more alone;

With cherubim and seraphim,

In God’s presence safe and sound,

Cor meum in aeternum.