Aid us in the moments we fail to see your face,
When we turn inside ourselves and tire of the race.
Convert our gaze toward the cross that we begin to see,
True pain, true hope, true love, true life - at death and now with thee.

Perhaps that’s why your friends oft found their place alone,
On silent hills and mountains wandered - yet they called it home.
Their emptiness filled with that grace which makes our stiff hearts learn:
The cross leads us outside ourselves - when t’wards it we turn.