From the northern white of the winter’s snow -
From the eastern blue of the spring’s new moon -
From the western red of the summer’s sun -
From the southern gold of the autumn’s leaves -
Come coals from the hearth’s flame,
Entrusted to the hands of friends.
Though the fire has died in the ancestral home,
Its spirit remains alive.
When touched to wood in the new laid hearth,
The warmth is rekindled again.
For warmth is friendship,
And friendship is love,
And love is bestowed up on all.
Let the door fore’er be open -
Let the cawther run free.
It is sung far and wide,
That this ever may be.
The home is the hearth.
The hearth is the flame.
The flame is the spirit of love.
Let all know, from whence they came,
They are warmed by this hearth and this flame.
Pat Mestern c1984