The Nature Of Faith

His fever set in swiftly In the months when the winds grow cold And the healers’ spells fell feeble So briefly ensouled, then consigned to mold I clutch the shell which once was our son In hopes that our God may restore him to me I bear the husk which once was our son That one day this wrong may be reversed for thee What sin hath we trespassed That earned us this terrible blow In the eyes of Heaven, some transgression Avenged here below, our child for the crows I clutch the shell which once was our son In hopes that our God may restore him to me I bear the husk which once was our son That one day this wrong may be reversed for thee Thus is the nature of faith To suffer in silence ornate While our prayers seek to audit fate That breath may once more his breast consecrate So long shall we wait I saw the light drain from his eyes