Little Whirlpools

Green river wild, winding down through its narrow gorge, Wordless, no words can bear its pureness or prayerful roar.

Rare is there one to hear its gentle and dreadful sound; The wakes of my paddle are the sole tracks of man around,

And they vanish away, Away.

And I cast little whirlpools, Growing and swerving down under, As lopsided tops, swirling, curling, Twisting out of time, And I ride on down.

My flesh dwells in the current, its glory promptly swept; I wish to linger and to keep, but I am inept.

I know no distance vast as between the Lord and I; He inhabits eternity, I inhabit time.

Holy is the Lord God, Holy.

And I cast little whirlpools, Growing and swerving down under, As lopsided tops, swirling, curling, Twisting out of time, And I ride on down.