On Being Asked to Write a School Hymn

On a starless night and

Underneath a sleeping

Comes the cry of sheep and

From the slaughter house to mine.

Fearful is the call and

Though I do not want to hear,

Though it has been said by

That the animal is dumb.

Gone the byre and gone the

And the gently moving

As with stabbing eye they

In a clear, electric sun.

Now, red-fingered to their

With the shot and with the blade,

Rubber-booted angels

Enter as the morning light.

But who wields that knife and

Does not strike the blow alone,

And there is no place to

Other than at his right hand.

God, who does not dwell on

In the wide, unwinking sky,

And whose quiet counsels

Simply from the human heart,

Teach us strong and teach us

What to say and what to do,

That we love as best we

All Thy creatures.

Even man.                                   Amen