Many times they called us gone
Empty streets
Jobs and laughter, song –
Gone.
But from the quiet rose a sound
at first a whisper
then resounding with a hundred-thousand
lost-get-found:
It is finished.
We know where we belong.
Bells and frozen palaces are shaken
One brave prayer and then another
restoring what was taken
Young and old and
middlers
Take their stand
They breathe
Taking faith, promise, and
each other by the hand.
We are not and never be the hopeless
Jesus died to have us
He cannot love us more or less
and though the times and seasons are unknown
This we know for sure:
whatever it looks like
We have a future
We are not alone.
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