A sky without stars,
a road with no signs,
with no shape to it all.
And he bears the scars
of my failed designs,
my stumble and fall.
Why do I still stand?
What right I to live?
What right I to be free?
The deep marks in his hand,
what it cost to forgive,
what it cost to save me.
At the moment I fell,
I was met by his love,
I was saved by his grace.
So ring out, sanctus bell,
ring on earth, ring above:
see, how bright is his face,
bright with love all divine,
as he now breaks the bread,
as the new wine is poured.
And a new star will shine,
shine to quicken the dead,
and lead us to our Lord.
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