Our Fire Burns Low
Our fire burns low; God's light grows dim,
For our bodies bend beneath the weight of sin.
We won't drink water pure from the well.
Can God's sacred power help heal a child who fell.
We love the night; good friends are few.
With the laughing crowd we follow what is new.
All alone in a world of our own.
Will God's sacred fire help melt a granite stone.
Cold fear beats on; warm joys are few.
Can youth's innocence return like morning dew?
Garish paths lead us down the dark way.
Please God, calm the earth which always seems to sway.
And then dark clouds break; God soothes our heavy pain.
Our faces brighten. God buys our sordid gain.
"Give me your burdens. I'll lift you once again."
© Allen Hackworth 2000