These Dales, O Lord, rise and fall before your presence;
And wild winds defend the splendour of your glory -
The seasons herald your Son.
Waters wash wild across millstone rocks;
As trenchant rains sweep in -
Grace flows abundant.
Drab cloths of cloud drape the sodden hills;
As drear dampens the hopeful heart, still -
The beck bustles onward.
Fierce frost breaks the dull persistent cloud;
Pierces the murk and dying days -
As stars win out the night.
The sound of the curlew floats lone upon the wind;
The lamb cries -
And all is heard.
Stonewalls crisscross the land, signs of covenant;
Holy and strong -
True and merciful.
The rising sun bathes the fells in deepening warmth;
The hum and buzz of life awakens -
And love survives.
The meadows glow afresh, clothed in yellow;
A festival of colour -
Dappled in glory.
Amen, we say. Amen. Ay and Amen.