O heart that longs for self-surrender, bring Up from the roots of earth one living blade With greening's promise breathing in a glade Named possibility. Let tendrils ring An aging tree that wills itself with trust To time's demeanor; let the moment cling To its completion: spark new stars to sing Bright songs beneath their heavens. Let space thrust Itself through space to give the weary rest From restlessness. Let clouds dissolve in light And so create the luminous. Let night Suspend itself in Aijalon and best The enemy. Let valor have its way While sun stands still on Gibeon today.