Photo by Alex Wu
In my room hangs a sedge of cranes
Gentle brushstrokes press their wings
Their long pointed beaks raise up to sing
A herald's call to the coming King
To be like the crane, so adaptable to change
Moving north as it turns to bright spring
By steady faith, to Him I cling
Trusting the Lord and what He will bring
But even as the seasons pass
I am not alone
Wherever I go, I long for the known
Your peaceful presence that I call my home
When You call me to follow, I'm led by Your hand
Through every shadow, come what may
Like the permanence of ink, Your grace never sways
Your love everlasting remains
