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