Golf divine, all games excelling,
Sport of heaven to earth come down,
Calls us from our humble dwelling
Out across the sleeping town,
To the clubhouse – friends await us,
How the course shines in the sun!
Sluggish fourballs won’t frustrate us,
For the day has just begun.
Breathe, o breathe thy gentle Spirit
Into every golfer’s breast;
Faced with water, may we clear it
And in safety come to rest.
Take away our bent to slicing,
If at times we press too hard,
Aim for distance sacrificing,
Striving for that extra yard.
Come then Royal, Ancient Teacher,
We will answer when you call;
May your grace become a feature
Of the way we strike the ball.
Make our stance relaxed but sturdy,
Help us drive both straight and far;
Though we rarely make a birdie,
May we move through life in par.
In this Eden where we wander,
All around creation sings,
Foolish then our time to squander
Fretting over little things.
Joy of friendship, joy of playing;
Country sight and country sound;
With each footstep we are praying,
For we tread on holy ground.