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Aug 2, 2004
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Faith
Non-Denom
Seldom does a man
look up,
He whispers prayers
to his own heart.
When does he see
the gentle face,
the love for him
been set apart?

Seldom does a man
declare-
he'll stand alone,
neyh stand up there.
Seldom does this man
taste love,
its bitter sting
through tears and blood.

His heart is frozen
in regrets and time,
he dwells on doom
and mourns his life.

As deaths face presses by
And is revealed a Lie
With all eternity left to weep,
he ponders still, and wonders
Why? Such love strikes through
and touches man
In a way no whispers can.

On his knees,
he washes feet with tears
He coughs up sin and wasted years,
But here for the first time feels
The touch of love,
and the hate it heals
Here with Man's pride,
all binding fails
Sweet scarring touch
Tender mercyful
Nails.