The Setting Sun
The setting sun
Can eastward turn no more
Nor recent path retrace
To blaze again
Throughout some re-run day
Nor spring-fresh leaf
Relive its glory
In autumn frost
Nor waning flower
Remake its beauty pure
To live again
The splendour of its perfect hour.
And who of man
Can turn the clock of time
To tread once more
The ways of years gone by
To live again a moment gone
An hour
A day
A lifetime fixed beyond control.
So help me, Lord
To live this moment
Just for you
For all I have is now.
John Puckett
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