The beautiful is crushed,
The lovely is brought low.
Through streets of woundedness
The broken waters flow.
The cry of humankind
Reverbs with fresh dismay
Where flowers decked the square
(‘Twas merely yesterday).
The twisting of the roads,
The rubble all around
Where grief and pain and death
Are waiting to be found.
Tonight the stars bend low
Above this broken place:
For our crushed agony
Is haunted still by grace.
Where mercy seems far off,
And hope a broken lie;
The faithful stars shine still,
They shine and do not die.
At devastation’s heart,
Where death has torn us wide,
We find Him waiting there
For us, the Crucified.
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