Where do I see the holy fire that speaks of burning love?

In sun ablaze, white-embered moon and every furnaced star;

those fleeting moments when I stop and gaze at heaven above,

with David’s eye and awe-struck heart, at what mere mortals are.

Where do I see the holy fire that speaks of holy ground?

I see it in the sycamore tree with leaves ablaze with light;

autumnal hues of red and gold, the fork-tongued flames abound

and speak God’s name, his presence near and my weak heart ignites.

Where do I see the holy fire that speaks of Christ as beacon?

In Easter fire, on sleepy hill, as we huddle in the dark

and trembling flame is sung to strength by earnest voice of deacon

and joined, with dawn arising, by the pure voice of the lark.

Yet greatest wonder of the gift of this most holy flame:

the burning fire within from when Christ called my lowly name.

Susannah Underwood 2017