(The Wing Child)

O chariot of insect
O crown of wind
Two royal leopards
Run with him

On a golden lead
Of tapered vine
O the blood sky
O the blood sky

Wine of a God
Running wild
O golden seed
Who made the
Winged child

(Seneca)

Run, run my little one
Run out to sea
Run, run my little one
What do you seek?

The canvas is high
The scheme of a life
Written in the wind
The pen, the knife
Run my little one
Breathe a hymn
Breathe my little one
A hymn to Him
To Him

The master is calling, calling

The canvas is high
The scheme of a life
Written in the wind
The pen, the knife

Run, run out to sea
Run my little one
What do you seek?

If you were his eyes
If you were his dreams
The whole of the sky
Could not contain you

So run, run, run out to sea
Run, run my little one
Breathe a hymn
For Him
For thee