Never Dim (The Waiting)

I think I smell the sunset Think I feel the close of day Clean shaven correspondents Are all crowded at the gate Smell the oil from their torches Their voices growing more irate Shepherds' staves are crooked Leading every crooked way All the sheep block their doors They're pulling down their shades The faithful looking in their mirrors The fateful growing old and gray But I look at You Your eyes are clear and bright I see your face It's an amazing sight Your glory, Lord Is still a burning light The light that all our faithless hands Could never dim Think I feel the sunset Think I smell the death of day People laughing at a funeral People dancing at a wake And all the seasons blend together This birds loosing feathers everyday And everybody's tired and scared And begging unbelief But You have yet to break a sweat No You're not afraid You're not afraid You're not afraid Think I feel the sunset Think I feel the close of day Shepherds' staves are crooked Leading every crooked way People laughing at a funeral And people dancing at a wake