The world spins down,
Falling in its perpetual arc
Toward a dark and empty grave.
We scramble and we plead,
Violently at times,
Yearning for peace,
For an escape from the stubborn incursions of hell
Into our war-weary realm.
We are glory and light,
The children of the dawn,
But the crimson river of a crucified race
Testifies against us,
Crying out from the slumbering earth.
And the One in heaven hears.