On faith, a second notion
to my redemption is not my incline.
The love of a Savior is indeed,
like asking an owl of noon's full define.
Yet I've acquired my own discretion
that upon a cross he saved, without recession.
Many will refute and choose to comply
with emptiness and a world of chance, of lies.
Examine your life, your most dire moment
and tell of your effort's full installment.
Of heights for which yourself is aspiring,
yet above the orchestra accords your conspiring.
You seek sense, of taste and touch. Yet tell me,
What feeling is that of your most trust?
Is it rain? A storm? A willow's ailing bloom?
No, it's your heart's passionate, striving womb.
So, I advise you.
Let not the senses mislead and stray you.
Just listen and speak to the spirit,
that I know brings forth to you.
On faith, it's more than an inkling,
more than a scourging fire.
Faith's the majestic rise of not only the stars,
but a belief in mercy of the warmest of hearts.