The cryptic mystic climbed the stairs to put fire to the lighthouse candle.
Two hundred circular winding steps to  his nightly destination...lives hung in the balnce....you see the ships at sea clung desperately to the streaming beams of salvation......To guide them past the ragged reefs and jagged rocks.

The Cryptic mystic huffed and stumbled, and grunted as he mumbled  " one hundred more to go".
For forty odd years, the mystical cryptic did dilligently climb to task as the setting sun did glow and bask the tower in fading light.
Preceeding dark and blinding nightfall.

Forty years and to the day or forty one I dont know which the crypic one was dutybound.

If he had only thought to look in the cellar there, he would have  seen a light switch on the southern wall.
In the lantern two hundred feet,high a massive bulb hung high above the wick and tallow
And to this day,the old man makes the climb on creaky knees a penance paid  pain.
A beam of hope for ship and scow still pierces blackest night as the cryptic one will still be found climbing up and hobbling down the winding staircase dutybound.

To dilligently seek his forever face
focused eternally upon his giving grace
even in squals that hover
under his wing you hide in compassionate cover

Knowing the love that longingly lasts
to hold you like an anchor sure and steadfast
pressing on towards whats in wait
your refining process toward the heavenly gate

Never lose sight of where your going
no matter what the evil one has thrown
for storms and squals open opportunity
to glorify his name in broken community

Shine bright like the night star
breaking bounderies in cities near and far
taking hold of Pentecostal power
leading people to his refuge and tower

Like Pentecost the Spirit will fall
then they will hear his compassionate call
"There's nothing to fear"
"My child come near"