It shatters; it transfigures:
from dust, His kingdom
lifts up dust, exalts our frame,
remembers, changes, in His name,
breathes new life into dry bones,
reanimates the dead.
Eleven dusty men, arise:
the mountain-top reveals your king.
All authority given Him,
He gives to you. Lift feeble feet;
He gives His message now to you.
The kingdom – shout it! – now is here.
Amidst the dust of here and now,
be its hands and feet.
The Consolations of Writing 