As over English earth I gaze, Bare down, deep lane, and coppice--crowned Green hill, and distance lost in blue Horizon of this homely ground, A light that glows as from within Seems glorifying leaf and gra** And every simple wayside flower That knows not how to say Alas! O Light, by which we live and move, Shine through us now, one living whole With dear earth! Arm us from within For this last Battle of the Soul!