The new life born in victory,
What cost and broken tragedy,
Alight with glory burns etern',
The mustard seed of grace but kern',
Which in its sprout puts green to shame,
The flowers stand abashed lame,
Man pulled in his weak mortal seat,
To splendor of immortal feat,
Up to the zoe grande and true,
Our Lord the dazzling firstfruit grew,
The life of God that became light,
To us the hope, the way, our sight!
So glory be and ever be!
To Him the Slain King risen free.

There's still sand in my face,
Still dust crusts in my eyes,
It flickers to starlight on the sea,
What gorgeous geometry.
Framed pebbles in their flowing waves,
Like gemstones in bezels embed-
ded in my feet until they're red,
Next pebbles turn to pat my back,
A friend of rocks -
False friends with rocks,
Convent how they end up there,
At least I hear their laughter all the same.

Calmest vibrations,
Translate the thoughts from one to another,
And a listening ear opens hearts so soon,
For many like to talk and talk,
But never do they hear in truth,
And still even talkers hide away,
From their deepest want to be known and seen.

For a glimpse of meaning in the midnight fog,
Alludes the talker who knows no ear to hear,
And runs from He who calls to listen.

Hear ye,
Hear ye,
He seeks an open ear,
To hear thy King,
To hear thy fellow creature here below,
And we shall see a glimpse of Him in the midnight fog,
As we use these ears He gave us so.