Wherever light dispels the hate,
our poems rhyme at heaven's gate;
We seek the spirit of the night,
to cast away our painful plight.

With Jesus dying for our sins,
His holy wounds a sacred glimpse;
Of fateful death upon the Cross,
to build up hopes despite our loss.

Yet frightened notions may exist,
in minds and souls that still persist;
To turn away from sacrificial love,
and angels flying with the Dove.

Surrender toward the saintly sphere,
where songs are sung and lilies appear;
The glow of light shines into hearts,
which Christ will never tear apart.