With joy you saw it all—
the water turned to wine,
five thousand fed;
the man, sick of the palsy,
rise and walk;
the one who touched your robe,
made whole,
your joy flower in Mary's eyes
when she saw you, Lord—
alive!
Rejoicing too, your follower
shall go into the city now,
inspired, Master, by your works;
share this Truth, sufficient still
to feed thousands more,
aware of Love's right action
where lack of order seems to be:
sure Love's touch is being felt
every faith-winged moment
on every crowded street.
So, among city stones,
where no flower likely grows,
we faithful, Master, come to see
signs of that joy
you've left with us—
growing!
