If I through thee should be of contrite heart
Wouldst then in turn accept my hopeful plea
Tis not for want of ‘Faith’ such words impart
More surety of what one’s life could be
Where once didst hold the promise of new day
Perchance a glimpse of what said plans hath made
As held within my sight, now cloak’d in grey
An outline drawn midst dark eternal shade
I bid these prayers may rid this mind of doubt
By cleansing soul; awaken Spirit’s core
Once more in being with and not without
In facing up to sound of Lion’s roar
Tho’ he persists in tempting Neath disguise
No claim on me, will hasten by demise