Golden grace of morning.
Evening cannot do as well.
We kept praying for sunrise.
And I wonder will youth still be laughing
on the day we come ashore,
from the ocean we’ve been sailing?
This boat cannot
Eagle soars to heaven.
Dove cannot fly quite so close.
Though the dove has all the beauty,
It is only near at most.
And I wonder will men
still be fighting
on the day we come to ground
from the skies we’ve been gliding?
Where will all my peace be found?
Where will all your peace be found?