Without agreements, covenants, or ties,

Wandering, drifting away beneath the skies.
Without truth to ground us where we tread,
Without life, just existing with the dead.
No power, no strength to make a stand,

No spirit moving through the hollow land.
Without the definition of the earth,
Without its meaning or its sacred worth.
Wandering, drifting away, we lose our place,

Without truth, without life, without a face.
No power, no strength to break the night,
No spirit left to guide us to the light.
Lost to the definition of the earth,

Lost to its meaning and its birth.
Yet here we stand, beneath the sun,
To be just a human being, everyone.
A person prone to mistakes and to fall,

An imperfect creation after all.
A person prone to mistakes, yet born to rise,
An imperfect creation looking to the skies.

For man transcends nature, far above the clay,
A living thing that finds a better way.
A living thing, a follower who hears,
A follower who listens to God through the years.

No longer wandering, drifting away in stride,
With power, with strength, with spirit as our guide.
Finding the definition of the earth once more,
Finding its meaning on this steady shore.

A follower who listens to God, anew,
A true creation, beautiful and true.
A true creation.

A true creation.