Dust to dust to dust
And the ash-wind blows across the earth,
Till the bitter taste of morality
Chokes the soft breath from our lips.
We are frailer than the flower
For we die still unfulfilled,
And our flesh carries no hope.
Like Cain, we are nomads,
Tossed from one idea to the next,
With trouble nipping at our heels.
All our days pass swifter than an arrow’s flight.
Give us to know You Lord,
Our hope and sanctuary.
In You the attrition of the years
Is silenced by eternal gladness,
And our hope springs up afresh,
For in You we place our trust.
In Your light we see the darkness truly,
Chained only to this world.
In Your love is a rest beyond the reaches of mortality,
And a hope no tears can quench.
Even the work of our hands
Becomes a sacrament of blessing,
For we are held in You.