The Spirit blows as he wants



 
The oil nourishes the living flame,
she ignites your light of life;
she consumes the glowing wood,
there the light stays hot.

The water of life quenches the burning thirst
of the sons and daughters and grandchildren.
The fiery chariot, guided by the spirit's hand
carries you up to the heights of the mountain.

Whispered by the wind's blowing
ringlets play the leaves on the tree.
In him seek refuge and hide in it
the smart little birds like happy musicians.

The grasses, the stalks on meadows and  corridors,
everything is moved in harmony with the word of the Lord.
It praise the gentlemen and are happy
tides and streams, silence and peace.

The guards swiftly blow the trumpets,
to awaken the dead from their graves.
They fly over the rainbow,
to die of sin, to live of the spirit.

The dew of the young morning moistened and refreshed them;
He loosens her tongues, he warms her mind.
They start singing the happy song
of the redeemed crowd.

They defend bondage and banish the darkness,
drive away the dark power of sin
They pull on the armor and stand ready for the fight,
to heal with balm the wounds of the sick.

They bring the nectar like industrious bees
and give it to all who thirst for it.
Come and rejoice, receive the blessing
and share it with your siblings from the heart.

The brothers and sisters, they like to praise it
the glorious, holy name of the Lord.
The mind blows as he wants,
he sows young green for the New Garden.

A.M. Hosta

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