O'er Fertile Plains I Roam

If the plains of thy mind be fertile, 
And if water flows from the distant hills,
And if seeds thou doth sew, 
Wilt not the Father give thee bread? 
Will ye not be nourished?



When you hold in your hand
A hardcover book,
As you sit by the side
Of a quaint mountain brook,

When the world is revealed
Within each sacred page,
When great secrets are told
Of the spirit of our age,

When the Logos hath risen
And the Way is revealed,
When Alignment is found
And the Soul has been healed,

You’ll be glad that you read
This strange book of our time,
And you’ll cherish these words
That brought Wisdom, sublime. 

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