Far Runs the River
Far runs the river
that takes its willing captives
speechless
Upon all high hills
their sacrament
of peace
Past crimson halls and lost voices
poured from veiled altars
that were buried deep
Yet onward ever onward
will she sweep them all
away!
Until the fall of every hill
breaks through the bar of ages
and sets them free
Then past from floundering awhile
the captives leap
they understand
And let all their broken dreams
fall through their fingers
like sand
Yet loosed from every hold
these shattered hopes
then find their several voices
Till transformed above,
their selfish selves forsaken,
their sound is heard!
And love’s comprehending captives
made transparent by the stream
speak out life’s hidden truth
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