We wander, wonder, through this life so gray

To look for life and love and more than we.

All things seem grand and great in light of day,
But leave empty, unsure the things of me.
For who is me, for what do I now know?
Is there goodness in this barren temple?
I seek there for answers but find only woe
And desperate hand with desperate scalpel.
Can truth be true in times both fire and ice?
My mind, my self, insufficient to save,
My source of sin and conductor of vice.
To whom can I give my soul to lave?
And thus I look at grand and loving thee,
And see and know this love which transforms me.