He clapped the mountains, and sang the skies,
Hung the stars, and commanded the sun to rise.
We were made out of dust, kissed by His lips of grace.
The perfect tale of love, made out in space.

Prehistorically, we were doomed to fail.
Failure a word written by the hand of hell.
With the pen that they have labeled sin.
With the blood and flesh of our martyred kin.

Can we replace him; perhaps not.
A soul and body too pure to rot.
A mind too great to accurately measure,
With a heart too deep to truly treasure.

He preached us love and salvation
We slammed our doors at him in frustration,
He wept to His Father, and for us he prayed
While he willfully died to our hands, albeit afraid.

We believed that he was dead, and dead for good
Gone to the place where our prayers once stood,
Only to rise and live in 3 days
With holes within his hands, and perfection across his face.

Now he has ascended, as we await for His return,
To show the world His Kingdom, we greatly yearn
As we struggle to find answers to this religious enigma,
An answer beyond our minds, but within the Alpha and Omega.

We live out his life, death and resurrection,
His miracles, doings, parables, perhaps crucifixion,
In hope that we will find faith within these actions
Minus all our earthly pleasures and sinful distractions.

To be perfect is outside of our goal
A goal so vast, it makes the empty; whole
And turns our kings and queens to rust,
And lifts up the weak; in Him we trust.

In Him we lose, in Him we find,
That to love the Lord will all our mind,
With all our soul, and all our might,
Makes us more bright than the brightest light.

God is the Question, God is the Answer,
The Greatest Joy, and the cure to cancer,
God is the Light, the stars and the night
God is finishing last, and rejoicing in delight.