Literature
To Hope Restored
At my first cry, my life began in death--
My own: for I, as all are, lost in sin,
I moved toward my grave with every breath
And every second let the shadows in.
Thus shackled to my nature, I bemoan
My wounds and tear my binds to no avail.
If I must walk toward darkness on my own
What is this gentle light beyond the veil?
My first breath welcomed death, but this a cry
To start again, begotten in the court
So near the holy place--my hope, descry
The way of life for we who, fallen short
Must breathe, alive, the resurrected Lord
Reborn in him, renewed, to hope restored.