The mortal press is unrelenting;
Causing birth to be repenting.
And the universal sigh
Is to toil and then to die.
Futile is this cycle ending
In resigned and sad pretending;
Still, we struggle for a sight
That predicts the end of night.
But a single dawn decreed
Long ago that my great need
Has been answered by the Son,
And redemption has begun.
This prison of mortality
Is broke, and I have been set free.
Oh, shall I not exalt and sing
The Christ, my only loving King?
No comments:
Post a Comment