I see the fields of waving grain,
And mountains rising high;
I view the brightness of the moon
In vast star-studded sky:
I see the early morning mist,
And grass with dew impearled;
And list'ning quietly, I hear
The Heartbeats of the world.

That rhythmic pulse, it fills my soul,
Its cadence clear and strong;
Like stirring music in my heart,
And on my lips a song.
Like measured time and without pause,
All doubts, all fears are gone;
From now into Eternity,
Those Heartbeats - on and on.

I see father, rapt, intent;
His mind, it scarce conceives
Of things unseen but not unheard:
God?s Holy Mysteries.
His soul is charged with ecstasy,
All pure and undefiled;
For he has heard the Heartbeat strong
Of his embryo child.

With heart uplifted to the throne,
In all humility;
The father, mother and the child,
A Blessed Trinity.
In rev?rent silence breathe a prayer
Unto their God above;
A prayer of thankfulness, for He
Has glorified their love.

?Tis all a part of His great plan,
?Though finite we may be;
For we?re akin to flowing stream
Or the tumultuous sea;
The muted beat of a tiny heart,
All nature?s flags unfurled;
For in that pulsing throb we hear
The Heartbeat of the world.

H. B. Austin
November 18, 1953