And the desert stretches bare,
Lean and dry in finitude
And all the harsh winds howl
In our solitary decrepitude.
And the waves of time crash over
Our crumbling fortress towns
We gather lonely rags
And name them wedding gowns.
And the weariness we feel
With cycle, rinse, repeat,
Is clamour in our ears
And cruel stones to our feet.
And the cities that we build
All fall down into dust:
The pain we cannot name
That undermines our trust.
Each stone, each bitter stone,
Transmutes the living heart
To desolation’s rock:
Dead so it cannot smart.
And every word we speak
And every hope we dream
Is built upon the sand
To silence our heart’s scream.
And yet there is a place
Beyond our farthest sight
Where crash no alien seas,
Where falls no fearsome night.
A place no terrors shake
No entropy dismays:
A place whose very stones
Sing forth their Maker’s praise.
From heaven like a bride
Its glory shall come down
The city nought can shake
God’s Self its cornerstone.
And we who trembling walk
The desperate wilderness
We seek the city built
Upon His faithfulness.
