The Word was made flesh,
The Word was flesh,
The Word and the flesh were one. 
We were God’s utterance.

And it was sweet in Eden
Where word and meaning mingled. 
Lions stirred, awakened alive,
And roared to the call of their name. 
Adam ruled with the sovereign word,
And speaking, understood.

Lo, by a word how fallen . . .
Forgetting the speech of singing birds,
Dropping cold as icy lumps,
Shooting star snuffed out.
Succinct blackness.

But, oh it would be Eden
Could I utter your name immortal—
Could I use my grammared grasp 
To keep you here,
To hold you fast—
To make you live.