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Find me the rose that will not die,
The tree no axe can fell,
The spring no Summer’s drought shall dry,
And this last miracle:
Show me the wood, the timeless wood
Where tall and steadfast stands
(The lightnings quenched, the storms withstood)
A house not made with hands.
Here is your rose that will not die,
Your tree no axe can fell,
The spring no Summer’s drought shall dry,
And here your miracle:
Behold the wood, the timeless wood,
And see how, steadfast, stands
(All lightnings quenched, all storms withstood)
Love’s house, not made with hands.
Love’s house, not made with hands
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