I have never had the kind of faith to shake the world,
Never seen seraphic hands stretched out in grace.
My eyes have never seen a wondrous work:
No seas parted, nor stilled hearts resuming their beat.
I try to cling to desperate seeds of faith
Sown in the soil of a faithless world,
And as I rise, brushing the dirt off my hands,
My eyes lift to meet your own.
All the answers start to fall into place.
I may never see the parting of the seas,
But the parting of your lips will suffice.
I may never live to see a dead heart revived,
But you make mine dance and skip and race.
I may never see an angel fly on silver wings,
But I think that you are miracle enough.