[Poems by Tabb in] Father Tabb | ||
WORSHIPPERS
The gift of utterance is ours,Love's service to proclaim;
But in the fragrance of the flowers
There breathes a purer flame.
Abiding in their place of birth,
They cleave unto the sod,
In reverence, nearer unto earth;
In lowliness, to God.
[Poems by Tabb in] Father Tabb | ||