New Life
-Robert Chow

What God is there where people starve and die?
Where helping hands are myth and crimson stains
Pour on the war-torn earth. A tearing rain
Spills in my hands: I ask Him why, Lord why?
The world below, so small from here on high;
Like drones they work for every single grain,
What cold machines, these children born of Cain.
Eyes closed. Arms spread. Just one small step, I'll fly.

A calming wind, a breath from God renews
My thoughts. I've found my rock, a grounded base.
This life, no longer dark when I have You.
I know when we are lost, we find Your grace:
The world below, so big from this high view,
Where light now shines onto a hopeful place.