Her beauty bare and plain to see
Standing there in front of me
Slowly, softly my approach
Fearing fright or cold reproach

But she turns and softly smiles
I slowly drift and fade away
Drawn in Gods own brush styles
The way her hair flows and body sways

Her soul and body bared
O'er her angels must have cared

Chaste in unclad form
As naked fields bear the storm
In Gods own image made
Through the river goes to wade

What wonder, awe and majesty
Wrought in flesh by Trinity

Modest, calm and cool collected
Only by her skin protected
Her garments for a time neglected
As a higher joy respected