Beneath the cold waters that flow overhead
there burns a stubborn flame.
Often I focus on the downpour instead,
getting myself caught in the rain.
But even when the rivers rush over me,
this little flame, it glows.
Even when the floods draw me into the sea,
it burns still brightly, I know.
It flickers with warmth and never fails,
despite the torrents that fall.
For even though my bones are frail,
I know my flame stands tall.
Enduring the harsh and bitter wind
it overcomes the cold.
Deep in my soul it’s been rooted in,
planted since days of old.
The fire flickers and heats my heart,
passing on threads of hope.
And like a brilliant work of art
intertwine the sparks and smoke.
It matters not the storms that rage,
nor the oceans that roll.
For each new day is a blank white page,
lit by the flame of my soul.
Fueled by the Spirit it never dwindles,
growing stronger each hour.
It burns ever brighter and always kindles
God’s glory and his power.
The subtlest flame overbears the sea
despite its breadth and depth.
So evermore burns the life within me,
forever laying rest to death.