Having a break today, here is a poem from my unpublished "back catalogue", perhaps appropriate for this time of year, and written in July 2005.
It is not based on any hymn (as far as I recall), but it could be seen as a pagan or mystical hymn to the natural world, and that which is beyond the natural world.
The pantheism or animism of much modern paganism, and the rejection of the transcendental is something the ancient pagans mostly would have rejected; even Xenophanes, a severe critic of the Homerian gods and goddesses, had a transcendental vision. Glory breaks through the mundane, and George MacDonald's North Wind, an embodiment of the Spiritual and Physical, is never far behind.
The earth trembles, convulses as in pain
It shakes from the valley to the mountain
But the deep roots have a foundation firm
They will not be moved, this I do confirm
Though every creature shake with fright
Creatures of dust, they know their plight
But of earth, soil, rock, my promise made
Mountains pour out smoke, be not afraid.
From the earth, comes ripening fruit, an air
So fragrant with blossom, and sweet and fair
Wake up, South Wind, blow upon my garden
Fill the air with rich fragrance, so that then
My lover will come, drawn by pure scents
The air blowing down, begins its descents
Trestles of breezes, storms strongly blowing.
North Wind, my lady, her hair overflowing.
Come the storm, dark clouds moving along
Then come hailstones, flashes of fire strong
Lightning breaks through, and fires the land
Here is my raging fire, I stretch out my hand
As passion burns strongly, bursts into flame
Love ignites, burning, hearts now not tame
I touch, and reach out, grasp then embrace
Here is the heart of love, of sacred space.
The clouds burst asunder, rain falling down
From rivers to oceans, like a flowing gown
I break rocks open, and water gushes out
Flowing onto dry lands, so ending drought
Changing deserts to pools of living water
Fountains water the garden in hot summer
Taste of the stream, drink deep of the well
Life in abundance, beyond charm or spell.
The wasteland will become fertile, and grow
Fields produce crops, where Spirit does blow
Green shoots rise up, once more to astound
Water comes to the thirsty land, dry ground
Receives blessing, now streams are flowing
As the Spirit is coming, soft, gentle, blowing
Poured out upon the land, anointed in hope
Breath of life, in all and beyond all in scope.