Suddenly here I stand again, Just barely one of many men drifted away. O my Love, will You remember me, Whisper some soft sympathy for a child gone astray? Have I wandered so easily? Or did I plan a rebel’s fall? Dreams of innocence teasing me… Are they mine, my dreams at all? Where may I go with no offence, A barefoot-wand’ring innocence sweet as the dew? I long to meet the morning breaking free, The pow’r of Light remaking me closer to You. Is there somewhere a greater I, an I that I cannot see? Or must the soul merely wait to die to be set free? Oh, I’ve heard stories like temptations to a diff’rent gospel, Rumors that a glorious recreation of myself is possible. Siren-like it sings to me of what I’ll be when I am free: A holiness bestowed unearned to stand within Your flame and not be burned… …oh, to not be burned! Far away then I have seen it rise, Another dawn in other eyes perfect and free. Led by love through the final fire, Free to love my own desire, made to be me! Oh, bring along this silent gentleness, rising Sun and drifting Dove. And this poor clay once again will bless Your love. …Your love.