Speak

We will sing

as seasons turn

as skies grow dim

as fires burn

when flowers beat

the long retreat,

the crushing march,

the great defeat.

When flesh proves weak

and hope has fled

and shade across

the sky has fled

and verdant hues

turn sickly pale

while harvest winds

moan and wail

still our tongues

will yet rehearse

the ancient words,

the stirring verse.

We will sound

the royal call

with faltering hearts

while kingdoms fall.

When misty veil

draws ‘cross the sky

and mournful clouds

toward heaven fly;

with grieving hearts

while flowers fade

when darkness falls

as daylight wanes

our hearts will cry

profound lament

yet still resound

when tears are spent

with song of hope,

that smoldering coal,

persevering portion

within our soul.

Our groans will preach

a hope yet distant

past starry bowl,

---a joy resplendent.

When joy sticks

in our throats

when words fail,

learned by rote,

in darkest hour,

though they be weak,

our anxious souls

resolve to speak.