Oh Ye Whose Eyes Hold No Soul,
Wandering the Streets for a bit of gold,
Born a Treasure of Pureness and Grace,
Now Reduced, Hollowed by Stranger's Embrace.
When Oh When, Will the Fire Ignite,
The Embers that Burn In the Gaze of Those Sight.
A Savior She Seeks, But There is None,
None in the World, that will rewrite Her Song.
Look up to the Heavens, there She Sees.
That it is there that Her Glory be Redeemed.
She Reaches Out, Unable to Grasp,
She Cries Out, in Hope and Despair.
In Loving Arms, a Savior Came,
One Whose Heart, Covers all Shame.
In His Wings, He Took Her Up,
In His Grace, She Was Restored
