We carry tears for those who cannot cry,
We walk the darkness where they dare not die,
And say aloud their secret question “why?”
We kneel before the beauty that transcends
Encouraging the faltering knee that bends,
Offering word-wings so the heart ascends.
We dare to look towards the heart of things
Reminding that here, too, the Spirit sings,
And faith gives feet to all our journeyings.
We keep the secret vigils of the heart,
And then, with fumbling words, try to impart
Our wordless wonder with our struggling art.
Our songs are prayers for those who cannot pray
We bring small candles where there is no day
Offering our feeble lights to show the way.
When all the tears are cried, the words are said,
And memory and meaning seem all fled,
We’ll sing the resurrection of the dead.